From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today….
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The Heritage and Culture of Merthyr Tydfil
From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today….
by Allan ‘Salty’ Jones
It was only when I was thinking about this short article that it dawned on me what a dramatic slump there had been in 1953 and 1954. Crowds of thousands in 1951 fell to a couple of hundred in 1954. I can remember the very successful manager being criticised for letting the all the team grow old together, and how he had failed to introduce some new blood into the team.
In 1954, when I was 10, we had a Welsh Cup replay game in mid-week at the Park against Llanelly. It was an afternoon kick-off because we had no floodlights, and I wanted to go to the game. My mother was adamant that I had to go to school which was just around the corner from my house. We were lining up to go back into school when my teacher, Mr Granville Davies, asked me why I was crying. I explained that Merthyr were playing in the Cup and my mother had insisted that I had to go to school. Being the kind-hearted man he was, he told me to go and tell my mother that it was OK for me to go to the game. I could not be seen for dust.
Neither Merthyr nor Llanelly were at their prime, and even to a young boy, Merthyr were playing badly. The small crowd was getting at our own players because they were losing, and then one of our players, Johnny Reed, who had signed from Gloucester City, broke his leg. The crack was heard all over the ground. This was the final straw for many of our supporters and they dwindled away as a cup exit looked inevitable. As they say, football is a funny game, and Merthyr took the match into extra time. The heroic ten players went on to win 3-2, in what was to me a life-long memorable game.
I continued to support the Martyrs with my brother every game up to about 1963, when I became Secretary and player of Horeb Chapel Youth F.C. in the local league. I held this position for 17 years and, as such, was unable to go to the Park for Saturday games, but I was there without fail for the mid-week fixtures, without doubt one of the most memorable of these for me was the first game under lights in about 1965. Harry Griffiths was the manager and he had gathered together and excellent team. Wimbledon were the visitors and although the game ended 2-2, it was a great game.
I will always remember one funny story of when Harry first came to us. He was introducing the trainer, and he introduced a man involved with the Welsh League side as Mr Billy Marvel. Quite a few present nearly choked as this was Billy’s nickname – his real name was Evans.
There were some dire times for the Club in the late sixties, and I can remember one occasion when we were really scraping the bottom of the barrel for a team to go to Rugby. I was asked if I would go, and I readily agreed although I fully appreciated my shortcomings. I think we were unluck to lose 7-0, but it was my claim to fame that I played Southern League football for the Martyrs. I also played for the Welsh League and I am proud of my record in that I scored in every game. Played one, scored one, and the famous venue was Swansea University.
In the early ‘80s I returned to the Park for all games, even though I had been appointed the Secretary of the Merthyr Tydfil Association Football League in 1984. My appointment was the consequence of the very sudden death of a man I held in the highest esteem. John V Bevan D.F.M. had been secretary of the League for 37 years at the time of his death, and I am certain that this record will never be surpassed.
The great seasons of the mid ‘80s to early ‘90s will always remain with me. Two Championship wins, the Welsh Cup success, and of course European football at the Park. The win over Atalanta must rank with the very best and the trip to Bergamo for the return leg holds unforgettable memories. Since then, there have been more troubled times, but I hope that the wheel of fortune is going to turn our way in the future.
Do you have any memories of Merthyr you would like to share? It doesn’t have to be about sport – it could be about anything you like – school, work, chapel, church, play. Anything you would like to share, please get in touch at merthyr.history@gmail.com
by Allan ‘Salty’ Jones
It was as a seven-year-old boy in 1951 that I first made my way to Penydarren Park to see the Martyrs. Together with my younger brother Grenville and my father, we would either walk the short distance from Penydarren or catch the bus to the Theatre Royal. We would then join the large crowd on the Promenade and gain entry to the ground at the Theatre end.
Sometimes, manning one of the turnstiles would be my uncle, John Rees (right). John, a remarkable man, was also the club’s groundsman. He did his job despite having two artificial legs from just below the knee. Penydarren Park at this time was a very heavy venue and I can picture, even now, my uncle forking the ground to remove the excess water and his artificial legs would be sinking into the mud. To have an uncle who was in the inner sanctum of the Club used to make me feel very proud.
We used to watch the games from the Theatre end, sitting on the wooden fencing behind the goal. My father used to go a little way back into the crowd. The atmosphere was terrific, which was particularly caused by the great success the club had achieved during the late ‘40s and its continued success. I cannot remember seeing the great Bill Hullett play, but the side I can still picture vividly is:- Sellick, Avery, Phillips, Lloyd, Lowe and Richards, Davies, Squires, Reynolds, Jarman, Powell.
We were always playing football in the streets as there were not many cars around. On home days, Stan Davies the right wing of the above team, used to walk through the street carrying his boots in a small bag, on his way to Penydarren Park. One of our heroes walking through my street! Not long after, another of Merthyr’s famous football sons used to walk through my street to play for the Town. Ronnie Skyrme used to live in the next street, Church Street, and it was always a thrill to see him walking to a game. Ronnie was later transferred to Tonbridge.
On returning home from the match, we would again go out to play football. Some of the players would have a distinctive way of wearing their kit, and in our own innocent way we would try to copy them. We would give ourselves their names and shout for example, “Good shot Dego” (Trevor Reynolds’ nickname) or “Well saved Bert”, for Bert Sellick and “What a goal Shenkin”.
I could go on for quite a while reminiscing about this team but suffice it to say that who can forget the silky skills of Squires, Jarman and Dai Lloyd; the thunderous shot of Shenkin Powell and the sliding tackles of Ralph Avery. Two reserve players also come to mind from this era: Des Jackson, who I believe came from Glynneath, a village in which my father worked for 50 years in the coal mine. The other was Andy Mulgrew, a little Irish winger, and the much bigger Trevor Reynolds used to look after him like a father.
There were some great derby games at that time, for example Hereford United, and I can remember the big Aberfan born and Welsh Amateur international Gwyn Groves playing so well for them in goal. Another famous Merthyr man appeared in the Hereford team at this time – Cyril Beech. Cyril later went on to become a very successful scout, and amongst his discoveries were John Hartson and Mark Pembridge. Gloucester City, Worcester City and Bath City were always hard-fought games, and I can remember on one occasion the great Charlie Fleming turning out for Bath City. What games!
And what about the Welsh teams? Lovells Athletic with Ray Cross in goal and George Lowrie at centre forward; Barry Town and Llanelly were always keenly contested games, and ones which I like to think were never lost.
To be continued…..
From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today…..
From the South Wales Echo 130 years ago today….
From the Merthyr Telegraph 150 years ago today….
by Barrie Jones
Chapter XV. Henry recounts a personal experience of the search system.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 30th April 1910, page 11.
Chapter XV
Marching from the stone quarry at Portland back to the prison one day, I noticed that a whispered consultation was going on in the rear of the party between the Principal warder and the officer in charge, and I suspected that myself and one or two of the others, were the victims of this conspiracy, which was just beginning to ripen into action. As soon as ever we reached the parade, instead of marching straight to our usual place, the order was to march straight to the bathroom. Of course, we all knew then that meant a special search, for some convict, in order to curry favour, had been doing a bit of informing during the morning. They took us all by surprise. Now it happened at the time that I carried an ounce of thin “snout” (tobacco) in the waist band of my breeches, so I said within myself, “what on earth am I to do now, find it they surely will.” However, luck was in my favour that day, thanks to my presence of mind, and no thanks, but bad luck, I say, to the man who gave the information. One by one we filed into the empty bathroom, and I stepped down into my bath.
“Take off your boots, first,” said the officer, “Right you are,” says I, trying to shake off my nervous sensations. As soon as I unlaced my boots I proceeded to unbutton my jacket, and all the time my heart was pounding so fast that I was afraid it would damage my ribs. I then took off one boot at a time, and I threw it right into the middle of the passage. Quite naturally, and exactly what I expected, the officer turned round to pick up the boot to see what was in the inside, and, like a flash of lightning, I whipped out the “snout” from my waistband, and dropped it at my feet, saying at the time, “Shall I take off my leggings next, sir?” “No,” says he, “let me have the other boot first,” which I gave to him at the same time planting my foot on the tobacco. I then took off my garments one by one, until I was as naked as the very first time I saw the lights of Cyfarthfa. After waiting for the space of five minutes he shut the door and departed, when I picked up my “snout,” bit a chew off, and smiled contentedly, at the event. Thus, I escaped what would otherwise have been a serious report, followed by fifteen days bread and water. My heart went back to its normal beat again. The moral of thus is, never allow your right hand know what the left is doing, for no matter how careful a man can be, there are others, and those who sometimes pretend to be your best friends, who will put you away just for the sake of a smile and a little favouritism.
It is not so much the officers themselves who find these things out, for, like the policeman or the commonly called expert detective, their scent comes by information received, Thus, they obtain their promotion not by their own cleverness, but by the help given them from the criminal class.
To be continued….
From the Evening Express 120 years ago today….
by Freda Entwistle
In the mid-nineteenth century, Market Square was the hub of activity in Merthyr Tydfil. Throngs of people gathered here for special events, filling the Square shoulder-to-shoulder, making it almost impossible to thread one’s way through the crowd. Add to that the horse-and-cart and pony-and-trap traffic, filled with passengers, and congestion was inevitable.
From the High Street view, the buildings on the right of the Square were redesigned and converted into Bentley’s Central Hotel towards the end of the nineteenth century. The hotel was later repurposed before it was demolished in the 1950s.
Bentley’s Central Hotel was advertised as a first class Temperance Hotel, particularly suitable for families and commercial gentlemen alike. The façade was of red brick and Bath stone and the structure was three storeys high, forming a ‘block,’ with most of the hotel on the two upper floors and the ground floor being shared with the entrance, restaurant and independent shops.
This leaflet prepared by the proprietor, Thomas Bentley, advertising the hall on the first floor reads, The large and beautiful Hall can be hired for Social Gatherings, Meetings, Balls, etc.
Missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints had arrived in Merthyr Tydfil in December 1842 and began holding public meetings in the the houses of local converts. But gradually more people were baptised, too many for meeting in a family home. This necessitated seeking for alternative facilities to house a rapidly growing group. The pubs and local halls were the only buildings that had the facilities to house large numbers..
The Bentley Hall provided a seating capacity for over 500 persons, and evidently, the missionaries found it to be suitable for Latter-day Saint meetings and conferences. One such Welsh Conference was held on Sunday 19 October 1924, and is recorded in an article published in the Millennial Star (the British publication of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) on 6 November 1924.
LABOUR AND “MORMONS” MEET IN THE SAME HALL
President David O. McKay is in receipt of a letter from President John W. Crofts (right) of the Welsh conference, relating an interesting missionary experience three of the Elders of the Welsh conference had recently:
“You will, no doubt, be interested and possibly amused to hear of a unique experience which we had here in the Welsh conference on Sunday, October 19th. Elder Melvin W. Grant and Gordon B. Affleck and I were scheduled to hold a meeting in the Bentley Hall, Merthyr Tydfil, at 6 p.m., and at the appointed time we commenced the service.
About this particular time, the town was in a state of political excitement, due to the fact that a noted Labour candidate was scheduled to speak there. It was not until we were half through with our meeting that I learned that he, too, was to use the Bentley Hall for his address immediately following our meeting. There seemed to have been either a misunderstanding of the time the political meeting was to commence, or an over-enthusiastic spirit on the part of the Labourites, for they congregated outside the building, five hundred strong, at least thirty minutes before their speaker was due to arrive. Quite naturally, they resented the idea of having to remain outside until the hall had been vacated, and when it became known by them that it was a ‘Mormon’ meeting which was responsible for their wait outside, the resentment waxed hot in certain sections of the crowd.
Realizing a disturbance was imminent, I turned the meeting over to the other brethren and went outside and asked for their leader or spokesman. No one seemed to assume any responsibility for the crowd, so after a few conciliatory remarks, I invited them to join us in our worship and thus avoid the long and tedious wait outside. One or two reluctantly accepted the invitation and sauntered into our meeting. These were followed by others, and in a few minutes, every available seat in the hall, which holds about five hundred, was taken. I then returned to the platform.
In an endeavour to cope with a rather awkward situation, I explained to them that they were now in a house of worship and that we would appreciate their toleration until the service had been properly dismissed. Before proceeding further, I called for a show of hands as an assurance that they would observe the solemnity of the occasion, and to my surprise and satisfaction, almost every hand in the hall was raised. I then proceeded to deliver my address, which to suit the occasion, was on the aims and purposes of the Church. They showed me reasonable courtesy while I was speaking and seemed to receive my humble effort very kindly. True to their word, they maintained perfect order until the service had been brought to a successful conclusion.
In this way, through the help of the Lord, we were able to reach more people within a period of thirty minutes than we would have reached in many months under the regular routine.”
John W. Crofts was only in his early 30’s at the time of this conference, but he clearly knew how to turn a potentially difficult situation to advantage for his cause.
by Laura Bray
There is a story a friend of mine relates about the time he worked in a theatre in London. On this particular occasion he was working with someone called Lowri.
“Lowri” said my friend thoughtfully, “Lowri Madoc. You aren’t by any chance related to Philip Madoc are you?”
“Oh my God!” said Lowri “You must be from Merthyr!”
“Why?” asked my friend
“Because only people from Merthyr ask if Philip Madoc is my father. The rest of the world asks if Ruth Madoc is my mother!”
Merthyr never forgets its own.
Philip Madoc, born Philip Jones, would have been 90 today – the 5th July 2024. He is probably best remembered now for his classic appearance as a U Boat Captain in “Dad’s Army”, with the much-quoted line to Pike (Ian Lavender) who was being cheeky and singing a variant of “Whistle while you work”:
“Your name vil also go on zee list. Vot is eet?”
Captain Mainwaring responded with the feeder line “Don’t tell ‘im, Pike.”
Madoc, immediate repeated: “Pike!” and wrote it down on his list.
There is special something about Philip Madoc playing a German, as he was fluent in German, having completed a degree in Classics and Modern Languages in Cardiff before moving to the University of Vienna to train as an interpreter. He eventually spoke seven languages including Welsh, English, Russian, German, Swedish, Albanian, Italian and he had a working knowledge of Huron Indian, Hindi and Mandarin. In fact, he was the first foreigner to win the Diploma of the Interpreters Institue in Vienna. However, Madoc tired of interpretation. According to Wikipedia, he said “I did dry-as-dust jobs like political interpreting. You get to despise politicians when you have to translate the rubbish they spout.”
And Dad’s Army was not his only German role; he played Germans several times, for instance in “Operation Crossbow”, “The Spy who Came in from the Cold”, “Manhunt”, “Hell Boats”, “Soft Beds Hard Battles” and “Operation Daybreak”.
Madoc was born in Twynyrodyn, went to Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar school and played for the local cricket and rugby teams as mentioned here, https://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=6854, where there is also a photo of him. After university and his stint in the Language Institute in Vienna, Madoc decided to follow his love of acting and secured a place in RADA. That launched him in the British Theatre and TV industry; he was, what we call in my house, with no disrespect intended, “a jobbing actor” i.e. one, whose face you may not know, or may only partially recognise, but one who has been in everything!
His first break was on stage with the Welsh Theatre Company playing Thomas Cromwell in a 1962 tour of “A Man for All Seasons” and from there he went onto the Royal Shakespeare Company, playing the roles of Iago, Othello and Dr Faust. His television debut was in the 1961 BBC Sunday Night play “Cross of Iron”. He came to internal recognition, however, playing Magua in “Last of the Mohicans” for which he learnt Huron Indian.
Over the next five decades, Madoc was cast as David Lloyd George, in the 1981 TV series; he played Russians, including Trotsky and Stalin; a Welsh speaking detective DCI Noel Bain in “A Mind to a Kill”; he had cameos in “The Good Life” with Richard Briers, and of course “Dad’s Army”. He appeared as King Lear, was cast in various villainous roles in “Doctor Who”, was seen in “The Avengers”, starred as Cadfael in the radio production. He worked with, among others, Judi Dench, Kenneth Branner, Emma Thompson, Fiona Shaw. He appeared in theatre in Stratford on Avon, the West End, and in regional theatres such as Theatre Clwyd in Mold; he did television, he did film, he did radio. He was a versatile, all round actor.
He was also a man of varied and unusual interests. In an interview for the Wolverhampton Express and Star on Thursday 3rd March 1977, he is cited as saying that he played a lot of squash and badminton, and had recently started studying hieroglyphics. From his obituary in the Guardian on 5th March 2012 we learn that he went walking in the Himalayas, camel-trekking in the Gobi Desert and motor-cycling in south-east Asia, and in an interview in the Liverpool Echo on 18th March 1988, he states that he often took holidays in, what was then, the Eastern Bloc countries. And yes, he was married to Ruth Madoc, who was Lowri’s mother, along with her brother Rhys.
Madoc died in 2012, from cancer, aged 77, having worked to the end, and Merthyr’s boy was laid to rest, far from his native land, in London.