At 15, I left Bernard Street junior secondary school in Bridgeton. Although, before we were shoved out into the big wide world of employment, myself, and three of my pals were selected for an opportunity of a lifetime. As 15-year-old boys we had no idea how good a job this was. Or how it would affect our lives if we were accepted for the position.
The geography teacher took me and three of my pals to a foundry in Balmore Road, Glasgow. This was probably the start of career teachers trying to find you a job or nudge you in the direction they thought you should go.
Me, Davey Smith and another couple of my pals got into Mr. Gregory’s big Wolseley for the run up to the north side of Glasgow - this in itself was special, being allowed in a teacher’s car! It was like going into the teacher’s staff room, the inner smoky sanctum where small dirty boys and girls were frowned upon.
When I told my Father, as he was signing the permission slip, that I might get a job as a metallurgist, he said, ‘Oh that’s a good job son, stick in there.’
I on the other hand didn’t have a clue what a metallurgist was, or did, but it was a day out of school, and a trip in a teacher’s car.
We were met at the foundry by the Manager and the metallurgist, a younger guy in a white coat, he was what we would eventually end up as if we got taken on by the foundry.
The younger man gave us the grand tour, every part of the foundry that would have been in our apprenticeship: the laboratory, pattern makers, the molding shop. Then into the foundry where the molten metal was poured into the shapes the pattern makers had made. As we walked round this dark and dirty factory, listening to our guide, there was a spillage from one of the big vats of molten metal that was being poured at the time. ‘Stand there,’ said the young guy and ran over to help. Well that was it for me, it put me right off.
There was no way I was going to be jumping in to help if something like that happened. Molten metal all over the floor, sparks shooting everywhere, it looked like Guy Fawkes night, only more dangerous. And you would have to go to college for the qualifications - no thanks. I wanted to get out of school and get a job.
But as the years pass, with hindsight, I realise just what an opportunity that was. I wonder where I would be now if I had been offered, and accepted, the chance to train as a metallurgist. Maybe sitting in an office wearing a white coat and a collar and tie, my big company BMW in the car park.
Still no use dwelling on the past, jobs were plentiful back then. When I left school with my technical certificates, a three-year leaving certificate and my dux medal, a man who knew a man who knew my mother, said the local garage was looking for an apprentice mechanic.
With my certificates in my saddlebag, off I went on my bike to Fielden Street and saw Andy, the garage manager for John Brown (meat market) Ltd.
He was obviously impressed by my qualifications, or maybe it was my sturdy build, because I started the following Monday.
Bill Brown, no relation to the family that owned the company, took me under his wing when I started there. Bill could turn his hand to just about anything, he was a time served plumber, and had his own business with a shop in London Road. But most of the time he worked in the garage at Fielden Street.
Bill was a welder, plumber, electrician, joiner, and very handy with car body repairs. If things were quiet in the garage and Bill needed a hand with an outside job, him and I would load up his blue Morris oxford estate and head off to one of the other factories John Brown owned.
One day I was working with Bill repairing leaks on the garage roof. The roof over the petrol station part of the garage was higher than the rest, about 40 or 50 feet. As I was coming down the sloping roof carrying the tools my foot went through a rotten part of the roof and I fell. Fortunately, I was near a small flat part of the roof and fell forward onto that. If I had gone straight down, I might not be writing this today.
Of course, it also gave Bill cause for concern, he was on the roof above the part I had gone through.
He was probably wondering if the rest of the roof was going to cave in. So it was slow and safe on his belly to spread the weight over as large an area as possible. By this time wee Andy, the manager, had heard me going through the roof and was shouting up through the hole from the floor of the garage. He had run out expecting to find me or Bill lying amid the rubble, so his priority was for Bill and me to get off the roof.
Bill had nothing to do with the mechanical side of my apprenticeship, but he had an encouraging way of talking to me and the other apprentices that made you think you were better than you actually were.
I think Bill’s influence in the 4 years I was there stood me in good stead for the rest of my life.
I might not be driving a fancy car, or wear a suit to work. But I can look at something that’s broken and work out how to fix it. I think that’s a mind-set Bill Brown has left me with.