Born Phillip Jones near Merthyr Tydfil, he attended Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School, where he was a member of the cricket and rugby teams and displayed talent as a linguist. He then studied languages at the University of Wales and the University of Vienna. He eventually spoke seven languages, including Russian and Swedish, and had a working knowledge of Huron Indian, Hindi and Mandarin.
He worked as an interpreter, but became disenchanted with having to translate for politicians: “I did dry-as-dust jobs like political interpreting. You get to despise politicians when you have to translate the rubbish they spout.” He then switched to acting and won a place at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA).
Philip Madoc performed many stage, television, radio and film roles. On television, he played David Lloyd George in The Life and Times of David Lloyd George and the lead role in the detective series A Mind to Kill. His guest roles included multiple appearances in the cult series The Avengers and Doctor Who, as well as a famous episode of the sitcom Dad’s Army.
The article transcribed below appeared in the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today (8 June 1940).
Merthyr Welcomes Evacuees
Sixteen Hundred Arrivals
“You will get a square DEAL here, FOLK-stone”. This clever slogan on a banner at the main entrance to Merthyr Railway Station greeted 1,600 children evacuated from Deal and Folkestone when they arrived at Merthyr on Sunday.
Several thousand people lined High Street and Church Street to welcome the evacuees, who were accompanied by their teachers.
The children were met by Merthyr’s Mayor (Mr. J.W Watkin J.P.) and the Mayoress. Others present at the station were the Deputy Mayor (Mr. A.J. Brobyn), Ald. Wm Powell, Ald. Sam Jennings, Ald. David Jones J.P., Ald. John Williams, Ald. T. Edmund Rees, Councillors Andrew Wilson J.P., J. E. Jones J.P., B. J. Williams (chairman, education committee), Lewis Jones, F. J. Bateson J.P., T. J. Evans, John Harris, Mrs. Mary Thomas J.P., F. A. Phillips J.P., David Parry J.P, and D O’Driscoll; the Town Clerk (Mr. Edward Roberts) and Mrs. Roberts, Canon J. Richards Pugh (Rector of Merthyr), the Rev. Emlyn Davies (president, Merthyr Free Church Council), Mr W. T Owen M.A. (director of education), Dr. T. H. Stephens (medical officer of health), the chief constable (Mr. T A Goodwin), the Rev J. T. Rogers, the Rev H. Davies, Mrs Margaret Gardner M.B.E., Mr A. P. Thomas J.P., Mr T. E. Lewis (station-master), Mr J. Crossland (borough treasurer), Mr. G. A. Cook (public assistance officer), Dr. King (H.M. inspector of schools), Mr. T Longville Bowen (editor, Merthyr Express), Mr. David J. Owen (chief billeting officer), Mr. Israel Price, Mr. T. S. Evans (deputy food controller), Major T. R. Evans (A.R.P. officer) and others.
After the playing of “Hen Wlad fy Nhadau” by the Salvation Army Band at the Station approach, the children – many of the younger ones carrying dolls and toys, and all with their gas masks – were led by the Mayor and officials to the Miners’ Hall.
In extending a welcome on behalf of the townspeople, the Mayor expressed the hope that the children would be happy and well cared for at their new homes.
Coun. B. J. Williams and Mr. David Owen were in charge of the dispersal of the children from the Miners’ Hall.
After being allocated to the various wards, the children were taken to the St. David’s Hall, where they were medically examined by 14 local doctors. When the examinations were completed, buses were waiting to take the evacuees to the dispersal centres in the various wards. At these dispersal centres they were provided with a meal, and later they were conveyed to their new homes.
On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday Merthyr’s schools were closed while arrangements were being completed for the education of the evacuees, who are drawn from secondary, technical, elementary and infants’ schools. Throughout the borough the evacuees could be seen fraternising with the local children and “exploring” their new surroundings.
The slogan already referred to was thought out by Mr William Morgan, of Twynyrodyn, one of the ward billeting officers.
Troedyrhiw
Bridge Street, Troedyrhiw, was decorated with flags and bunting to greet Pentrebachthe children from Deal when they arrived at 9.30 pm, and crowds of people lined the streets to welcome them. The children, numbering 96, and varying in ages from four to fourteen, marched to the Welfare Hall, where they were provided with a meal.
The Rev. J. C. Bowen, during the proceedings, introduced the Rev. T Rees (vicar), who spoke to the children and said they were now among people who were kindly disposed to them, and were united to make them happy. On behalf of the people of Troedyrhiw, and also of the churches and chapels, he extended to them a warm welcome. Great credit is due to the chief billeting officer, Mr. D Rowlands, and his staff of assistant billeting officers for the smooth working of the arrangements for billeting the children. There was evidence of fine teamwork, which included the chairman, Coun. B. M. Davies; Mr. M.Morgans, secretary; and Mr. G. Bryn Jones J.P., treasurer. Valuable services were also rendered by the police and special constables, under the direction of Sergt. Pugh; also by the ambulance division (Capt. David Jones); the Auxiliary Fire Service, with Mr. Harry Lucas, officer in-charge; and the committee of the Welfare and Boys’ Club (chairman, Mr J. J. Palmer); and Mr Fred Bristowe (Boys’ Club secretary).
The members of the committees were busy on Monday writing letters to the parents of each evacuee child.
Evacuees arriving in Merthyr
Abercanaid
Although the contingent of the evacuee children, numbering 65, for the Abercanaid and Pentrebach area, from Deal, arrived at a late hour on Sunday, the villagers crowded the streets to give them a welcome to the area. The chief billeting officer (Mr. D. W. Davies) had the arrangements so admirably planned, that within an hour of their arrival the children were in their new homes. The billeting and welfare committee were all out to attend to the provision of a meal at the Abercanaid schools, and parents of the children have been informed of their safe arrival, and with the assurance that they will be well cared for during their stay. Splendid services were rendered by the special constables, under the direction of P.C.’s Caleb Evans and R. Davies.
Merthyr Vale
Children evacuated from Deal arrived at the Gordon-Lennox Hall, Merthyr Vale, close on 9 p.m. Outside the hall hundreds of local residents gave them a rousing welcome. About 210 children, with their teachers and a few adults, were handed over to a competent staff of workers, drawn chiefly from the teaching profession, and the difficult task of placing the children in their new homes began. All the clergy and ministers of the village, together with local members of the St. John Ambulance Brigade and the local police (with Inspector Young in charge) worked as one, and many of the children brought letters of introduction from their clergy to those of their new home. Praise must be accorded the women helpers who served the children with a meal. All worked together, and tribute must be paid to Mr. W. J. Williams, headmaster of Pantglas Boys’ School, and Mr. A James, headmaster of Merthyr Vale Boys’ School, through whose energy the children were all placed in good homes.
Many thanks to Tracy Barnard for transcribing this article.
When the Taff Vale Railway between Merthyr Tydfil and Cardiff received its authorisation in 1836, the Act gave the Railway Company leave to construct a branch to the tramroad at Dowlais. For various reasons, the Railway Company procrastinated over the work, with the result that the Dowlais Iron Company eventually took responsibility for making the Branch themselves. The terms of the 1849 Dowlais Railway Act authorised them to build not only the line, but also a passenger station, situated close both to the Iron Works’ lower entrance gate and the Merthyr-Abergavenny road.
Sir John Guest
Although the 1849 Act allowed the Iron Company five years to complete the railway, it was in fact ready in three. Financed by Sir John Guest, MP for Merthyr Tydfil, promoter of the TVR and soon to be sole partner in the Dowlais Iron Works, at a mile and sixty-eight chains in length, the steep gradient of its route up Twynyrodyn Hill meant that its lower part operated as an inclined plane. The Newcastle firm of R & A Hawthorn designed a stationary engine capable of drawing trains of up to six carriages in length and 33 tons in weight over s distance of 70 chains and 30 links, up the 1 in 12 slope. It had two horizontal cylinders of 18 inch diameter and 24 inch stroke and worked at 50 strokes per minute. The steam pressure was 30 lbs psi.
Viewing its erection in March 1851, a local newspaper drily enquired whether in ten years’ time, a ‘chronicler of local events’ might have reason to report the completion of a notional line ‘from Dowlais to the extreme point of Anglesey.’
Modest it might be, but at the Dowlais Railway’s official opening in August 1851, Royalty graced the ceremony. Three days before the event, just as Sir John and his wife Charlotte were about the set off on a carriage drive, the horse-omnibus drew up outside their home, Dowlais House, bringing Charlotte’s cousin Henry Layard, known as ‘Layard of Nineveh’ on the strength of his recent archaeological discoveries in Assyria, and with him, his friend Nawab Ekbaled Dowleh, whom the newspapers called the ‘ex-King of Oude.’
With the help of Works Manager John Evans, Charlotte organised every stage in the celebration, from welcoming a party of Taff Vale Directors who had travelled down from Cardiff for the occasion, to pairing up her ten children to walk in the procession: ‘viz. Ivor and Maria; Merthyr bach and Katherine; Montague and Enid; Geraint [Augustus] and Constance; Arthur and little Blanche.’ Flanked, probably as much for show as for protection, by the local police, they made their way to the station, decked with greenery for the occasion, with the school-children and company agents following. The ‘trade of Merthyr and Dowlais’ joined them along the way, all to the accompaniment of music from the combined bands of Cyfarthfa and Dowlais.
An 1880 map of Merthyr and Dowlais showing the Dowlais Railway – shown in red from top right to bottom left
From Dowlais station, the passengers travelled to the top of the incline where their locomotive was uncoupled. Messrs. Hawthorn’s engine lowered the carriages down the slope, and the intrepid travellers made their way on to Merthyr. Some of them chose to continue by TVR to Abercynon, but the Guests and their visitors preferred to return to Dowlais.
Later in the day, a ‘small party comprising about five hundred ladies and gentlemen’ enjoyed a sumptuous meal at the Iron company’s Ivor Works, to be followed by speeches and dancing. Sir John, whose health was none too good, left the festivities early but Charlotte remained on hand to propose the healths the Directors of the Taff Vale railway and to open the dancing with Rhondda coal owner David William James as her partner. With Layard as his interpreter, the Nawab set the seal upon the day’s pleasures by expressing his delight at the hospitality that he had received in Dowlais and asserting that he had never enjoyed himself so much as he had during his ‘brief sojourn’ in Wales.
Although Sir John envisaged the Dowlais Branch primarily as a mineral line, he seems to have been perfectly happy with the requirement that it should also accommodate passenger traffic. Records indicate that over 1853,it came in for usage by 755 first class, 1884 second class and 7253 third class passengers but, sad to say, disaster struck at the end of the year. December 1853 witnessed an ugly accident when a passenger carriage over-ran the scotches to hurtle down the Incline unchecked and two passengers lost their lives, with five more suffering serious injuries. Officially speaking, passenger traffic on the railway ceased in 1854.
Unofficially, as Merthyr Tydfil writer Leo Davies would explain, it was usually possible – given a combination of unscrupulousness and agility- to obtain a lift. In an article of 1996, he described the whole unorthodox procedure in graphic detail. Access was obtained via the wingwall of a bridge and through some railings. The sound of the hawser gave advance warning of the approach of a train on the incline – ‘four ballast trucks, each half-filled with sand.’ Travelling typically at ‘a nice, sedate trotting pace’ there was evidently ample scope for the non-paying passenger to grasp the outside rim of the buffer, and ‘swing both legs up and around the buffer spring housing.’
An aerial view of the Twynyrodyn area. The Keir Hardie Estate is being built to the left and the route of the Dowlais Railway can clearly be seen running vertically in the photo. Twynyrodyn School is visible middle right. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive
The Dowlais Railway closed finally in 1930 and the trackbed would be filled in sixteen or so year later, over 1946-7. In the 1990s, when Leo Davies reminisced about the ‘Inky’ as he fondly calls it, the ‘straight, green, grass grown strip of land’ ascending Twynyrodyn Hill remained visible. Perhaps, with the eye of knowledge or faith it remains so. Admittedly, former pupils of Twynyrodyn School remember the old line’s route, but without local knowledge it is not easy to trace. Only a few yards of broad green path survive to mark the site – perhaps – of the old trackbed and the name ‘Incline Top’ given to a hamlet at the edge of a plateau of rough ground extending towards Dowlais and its great Ironworks commemorate the location of Sir John Guest’s last great enterprise.
The blog article of the 27th November 2019 (http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=3016) on the aerial view of Court Street in 1965 brought back memories of my school days in St Mary’s Catholic School and my recollection of Court Street during that time. I attended the school in the four ‘school years’ from September 1956 to July 1960, so I recall features of the street that had already disappeared by 1965.
Living in Twynyrodyn my usual route to school was down Twyn Hill so the first landmark on the street I would pass by was the Glove and Shears situated on the left hand side and corner of where the Tramroad crossed the Twynyrodyn Road.
Opposite on the right hand side of the road the last house of Twynyrodyn Road was a corner shop. I can’t recall ever going into the shop but I did spend many a time looking in the shop window. There on display were a variety of items in what must have been ‘dummy’ packets; dusty boxes of popular products of their day, even chocolate bars presumably made of wood or cardboard wrapped in foil etc. The shop’s display never seemed to change so the shelves and their goods were liberally sprinkled with dead flies and wasps.
Further down the street on the right hand side between Gospel Hall formally Twynyrodyn Unitarian Chapel and the railway bridge were a row of properties, some of which were shops. The one shop I remember in detail was an electrical goods shop with a large window displaying a variety of modern electrical appliances. Just inside the doorway of the shop were stacked lead acid batteries, the battery acid was held in thick glass containers with carrying handles. The batteries were used to power radios in those properties where there was no mains electricity supply. You could hire the battery and once the ‘charge’ had expired you returned the battery to the shop to be recharged and collected a newly charged battery in exchange.
After passing under the railway bridge by means of an archway on the right hand side of the road, you then passed by Jerusalem Chapel on the corner of Gillar Street. In Gillar Street on the left hand side there was a small row of houses that backed onto our school yard. The houses had no back gardens, just small courts that were separated from our playground by a low thick stone wall capped with flag stones. Inevitably many a football or tennis ball landed in one of the courts much to the annoyance of their occupiers.
The school building was probably built in late 1870 or early 1871 for both infants and primary age children with a capacity for approximately 460 pupils. On the 30th April 1870 the Aberdare Times reported that “the splendid schools now in the course of erection on the Maerdy Estate are proof of the success that has attended the Rev. Gentleman’s administrations”, (Father Martin Bruton). The ‘schools’ were built on the site of Maerdy House a large building with a sizable garden at its rear, which was now the school yard.
In October 1869 the Local Board of Health gave approval for new school rooms and additions to the house which may explain why the first floor was accessed by an exterior staircase only. The first floor may have been an addition or enlargement above the existing house’s structure. At the rear of the building there were unusual features such as a small arched recess built into the building that seemed to have no function other than as den for us to climb into during playtime.
The School’s boundary wall on the northern side of the school yard separated the school from Conway’s Dairies. This was formally the site of the Boot Inn, 22 High Street, Conway’s had acquired the premises in 1910 and its offices and plant were accessed from the High Street.
Conway’s Dairies. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive
From our yard could be seen towering above the high stone wall the cylindrical metal chimneys of the Dairy’s pasteurisation and bottling plants. The Dairy’s coal fired steam production must have taken its toll on the metal chimneys, as they were extremely rusty. When we turned up for school one morning we were greeted by the sight of one of the chimneys lying in our school yard. The chimney must have rusted through near its base and because of either the weight of metal or high wind it had collapsed during the night. At this time household milk was delivered by horse and cart and the Dairy kept the horses and carts in stables built in the arches of the railway bridge. The stables were accessed from the road leading off Court Street opposite the entrance to Gillar Street. Conway’s Dairies moved its main production to a new plant at the Willows on the other side of the River Taff in 1960/61, but retained use of its High Street plant for many years after but on a much reduced scale.
A Conway’s Dairies milk cart outside the old Boot Inn in the early part of the 20th Century. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive
As well as the Dairies’ chimneys, the other prominent features on the skyline were the clock tower of St Tydfil’s Church and the four storey high Angel Hotel. The parish clock was a useful timepiece for us boys when playing in the streets and alleys near the school during the lunch hour. Punishment for lateness for afternoon lessons could be a canning on the hand. In 1957 the Angel hotel was demolished and during playtimes we had a grandstand view of its progress. The walls of the hotel were very thick with over 400 windows that were deeply recessed with bench seats and the workmen could be seen walking along the top of the wall knocking away the brickwork at their feet with sledge hammers. A working practice that would making any health and safety officer wince, and of course it was not surprising that two men fell from the third storey when part of the wall they were standing on collapsed. Sadly one died and the other was seriously injured.
Opposite the school was a row of terraced houses, formally Maerdy Row, in the front window of one of the houses I can recall seeing a display of boxing trophies, cups belts etc. I don’t know whether they were for professional or amateur boxing or how long they were on display. The occupier of the house must have had some pride in the achievement to display them in their front window. The properties in and around Court Street were near their full life and in February 1960 number 2 Court Street and numbers 22 and 23 Gillar Street were issued with demolition orders. In the following month the County Borough Council approved a compulsory purchase order (CPO) for Court Street. The street was demolished together with the properties between the railway line and the High Street known as the Ball Court. The aerial photograph shows that Jones Bros Garage occupied the site in 1965.
At the end of Court Street as it joins the High Street on the left hand corner and behind the Star Inn was a slaughter house. We boys could climb the waste ground at the side of the building to look down through a window to watch the slaughter men working below. The smell and sounds of the slaughter house is something I will never forget.
By 1960 plans were in place to relocate St Mary’s to an alternative site in Caedraw and today the school in Caedraw is scheduled for closure with a new school planned for the Bishop Hedley School site in Penydarren.
Of the many benefits that came to post war children such as myself the most important for me was my passing the Eleven Plus (11+) thus gaining entry to Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School in September 1960. Before the ‘Castle’, I attended St. Mary’s Roman Catholic School in Court Street, known to us boys as the “bottom of the town”. St Mary’s was a small school and boys were taught separately from the girls and even playtimes were held apart. To this day I can recall the name of only one girl who attended the school during my four years there. The boy’s school was on the upper floor with the girls occupying the ground floor. There were only three classrooms on the upper floor, so depending on pupil numbers some doubling up of age groups was necessary. My age group attended Mr. Dennis Hennessey’s class for the final two years.
St Mary’s 3rd and 4th year boys circa 1959 with Bede Wills our headmaster in his final year before his retirement.
I remember sitting some of the 11+ test papers in the build up towards the final sitting but I cannot remember the final important test. On the day of the result Mr Cotter, our new Headmaster in that year, called some of us out to the school hallway to tell us we had passed. We all returned to the classroom to thank Mr. Hennessey for getting us through. I recall that two boys who had joined our class in the final year to sit their 12+, passed for Quaker’s Yard Grammar School, two from Cefn Coed went on to Vaynor and Penderyn Grammar School, three others went to the County Grammar School, and four of us went to the Castle. Not a bad number for a small school and I am certain that ‘downstairs’ far more girls than us boys passed.
Today, pupils attending a new comprehensive school have some prior knowledge of their new school through school open days and primary/comprehensive school liaison. In my day the first taste of a new school was on that anxious first day of term. Three of us Castle boys lived in Twynyrodyn, Michael Long in Walter’s Terrace, and Alan Clifford and I on the Keir Hardie Estate, so most weekday afternoons after school we would make the long trek up Twyn Hill together. After the 11+ result we had more to talk about, and one afternoon Alan came up with an idea on how we could see our new school before our first day of term. An aunt of his was a cleaner at the Castle and she offered to take us around the school in the summer holidays. So one morning in August we met up by Penuel Chapel on the Twyn Hill and walked across town to his aunt’s house on the Grawen and from there we were taken up to the school.
My first impression of the school was how big it was! Such long corridors and so many classrooms, how would I ever find my way around? The place was busy with workmen everywhere and two new classrooms were being built on the ground floor in what I later discovered was the boy’s old assembly hall. A new gymnasium had been opened in April 1959 on the site of the old ruined coach house and it doubled up as the boy’s new assembly hall. The new class rooms were necessary to accommodate the impact of the post war baby boom. The Headmaster, W. Lloyd Williams, mentioned the increase in pupil numbers in his 1958/59 School report to the Education Committee calling it a bulge. It was a bulge that would last a long time. Entry numbers continued to increase each year so that by September 1960 the pupil number was 738,405 girls and 333 boys. More girls than boys were entering each year, in my year (1960) there was even a class 2G for girls only!
On my first day at the ‘Castle’ I found out that my form room 2A was one of the very new classrooms I saw being built on the day of our special tour. My Form Master, Mr. Alan James Hill (Religious Education), was new to the school also. The Form Master of the adjoining new classroom, form room 2B, was Mr. Vincent Lee, (English), he was a new starter also, but he had the advantage of being a former pupil of the school. Similar to St Mary’s school we boys were separated from the girls for assembly and play times, we having sole use of the downstairs while the girls occupied the floor above. What I was not prepared for was sharing lessons with girls, something I hadn’t experienced since leaving the Roman Catholic infant’s school in Morgantown.
Unlike the day of our private tour the School was so full and busy with pupils streaming through the corridors in between lessons shepherded by senior boys, the Prefects. Surely these were men who towered over us with beard stubble on their chins! It would take quite a while to settle in but those six years would soon fly by and in my final two years I to would be shepherding pupils in between lessons but with not so much beard stubble.
Following on from the previous couple of posts concentrating on Court Street, here is another of Merthyr’s Bridges.
Court Street Railway Bridge
In 1851 the Vale of Neath Railway was constructed to carry goods from the Merthyr Ironworks to Neath, and then onto Swansea for export by sea. The line originally stopped at Aberdare, but with the construction of the Aberdare/Merthyr Tunnel the line finally reached Merthyr in 1853.
The Court Street Railway Bridge was built in 1852 to carry the new line to Merthyr Station, over the main parish road to Twynyrodyn.
The original bridge was built on a slight skew and had three spans – the main central span for road traffic of 24 ft 9in, and two smaller side spans for pedestrians of 8ft each. The bridge was built with dressed stone abutments and piers, with a wrought iron ‘trough’ across them to carry the railway.
From the time of its construction, the bridge was prone to problems with large volumes of water coming off the bridge on to the traffic below. The Vale of Neath Railway, and later the Great Western Railway (when they took over the Vale of Neath line) continually tried to rectify the problem, but without success.
In 1938, the GWR requested permission to reconstruct the bridge, but this was denied. In 1946 however, permission was granted for the bridge to be modified, with a single trestle being built in place of the side piers. As a result of this modification, only one pedestrian footpath could now be used due to the base of the trestle being built on the other side.
In 1963, British Rail and Merthyr Borough Council agreed that a new bridge should finally be built to accommodate the increase, and type of traffic using the roadway. Work began in 1965, with the removal of the old urinal at the bridge, and the road was lowered to provide more headroom for traffic. The new single-span bridge, built of masonry abutments and stressed concrete beams was opened in 1967, and the bridge is still in use today.
The next chapel we are going to look at is a chapel that has been somewhat forgotten – Twynyrodyn Unitarian Chapel.
When Rev T B Evans was appointed as minister at Ynysgau, he was considered far too conservative by the Arminian members of the congregation, and they lodged a protest. The matter was taken to court, but the Arminians lost their appeal and left Ynysgau.
In 1814 they began meeting in a room at the Patriot Inn near Ynysgau with Rev Thomas Evans taking the services. In the following few years, discussions were held regarding the opening of a Unitarian Chapel in Merthyr.
In 1820, therefore, when the congregation was forced to leave the Patriot Inn, a committee was appointed and within a year, Twynyrodyn Unitarian Chapel was opened in Court Street, and Rev David Rees was appointed as the first minister there.
After Rev Rees left in 1823, Rev David John became minister in 1826. By the 1840’s David John began expressing sympathy for the Chartist Movement and the congregation, not comfortable with his views began to leave the chapel. Due to the severe drop in the congregation, the chapel closed in 1847. Rev John thus left the chapel, but the following year, the chapel reopened and new ministers were appointed.
By the beginning of the 20th Century the old chapel was becoming obsolete and the congregation decided that they should build a new chapel. It was decided to build the new chapel in Lower Thomas Street, and the architect chosen was Mr A E Johnson who designed a very opulent, striking gothic building. With the building of the new chapel, Twynyrodyn Chapel became vacant until it was bought and became the Gospel Hall.
The chapel was demolished in 1969 during the redevelopment of the town.
The name plaque from Twynyrodyn Chapel which is now located at Hen-dy-Cwrdd Chapel in Cefn-Coed.
WILLIAM CUTHBERT TAYLOR – 1909 – 1977
A matter of black and white.
A Merthyr Tydfil story of racial exclusion.
by Irene Janes
Now there’s a name to conjure and in a way it was as his first name of William was dropped, and he was known as Cuthbert Taylor. He was born to Cuthbert Taylor and his wife Margaret Anne in 16 John Street, Georgetown, in 1909. By 1920 the family had moved to Mary Street, Twynyrodyn.
Merthyr boxing enthusiast may recognise his name others for racial discrimination. During his career, Cuthbert fought two hundred professional bouts. He won one hundred and fifty one. Lost sixty-nine and drew twenty two times and only knocked out once, a worthy opponent for anyone.
He was selected to represent Britain in the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam but was defeated in the quarterfinals of the flyweight class to the potential silver medallist Armand Apell. At this time, the Olympic Games competitors were strictly amateur status.
Cuthbert may not have won a medal but was and still is celebrated as the first black boxer to compete for Great Britain in an Olympics. He was only the third black British Olympian. The others were Harry Francis Vincent Edward and Jack London, both athletes.
After the Olympics Cuthbert returned home and turned to the professional side of the sport. On 29 December 1929, his first professional match was in Merthyr, the contest was a draw. Nevertheless, his next fight was a win over Armand Apell. By the middle of this year, he moved up a weight division to Bantamweight. He went on to defeat defeated Dan Dando to gain the Welsh Bantamweight Championship.
Although being recognised as one of the best in Britain there was one hurdle that his perfection at his craft could not overcome. He could not fight for the British title, and why? The colour of his skin.
His father was of Caribbean decent, his mother white welsh, the championship was closed to non whites regardless of their established good character, record and skill. As an amateur, he was good enough to represent Great Britain in the Olympics but not as a professional to claim the title of British Champion.
Later he passed on his boxing expertise onto another great Merthyr boxer Howard Winstone.
Cuthbert died on 15 November 1977 and still living in the town of his birth.
N.B in 1911 the then Home Secretary Winstone Churchill succumbed to pressure when Jack Johnson an American black boxer was billed to fight British white boxer ‘Bombardier’ Billy Wells in London. There was uproar that a black boxer and a white boxer would compete on British soil. At this time, there were anxieties over the future of the ‘white race’ and concerns over how a coloured fighter defeating a white opponent would affect the colonies. This rule of racial exclusion was not reversed until 1948. In June of that year boxer Dick Turpin defeated Vince Hawkins, in Birmingham, to win the British middleweight title. So not only did Dick win the title fight but is credited to be the first non- white man to win it since the ban was lifted.
The central library in Merthyr Tydfil holds a black file containing photocopies of many letters sent to Cuthbert Taylor him from agents.
A book has been written about our Champion think it is titled ‘Just a Little Bit of Brown’. I don’t know the author but would love to find a copy.
‘The day war broke out’ was a catchphrase first coined by an old radio comedian, Rob Wilton, to imply that it was the day that life began. For many people, certainly it was the beginning of a life-style hitherto undreamt of.
When war broke out on 3 September 1939, I was being hurried along a country road by my aunt. I spent every school holiday with her and my cousins on their farm, six miles outside Builth Wells, and I was being taken to catch the local bus to begin my three-hour journey back to Merthyr Tydfil. As we arrived at the village, a telegram boy in his smart, short, navy jacket and pill-box hat, came tearing up to us on his bright red bicycle. He took a telegram out of the leather pouch on his belt and handed my aunt an ominous yellow envelope. Telegrams meant trouble on those days before private telephones, usually a death in the family. My aunt tore open the envelope. It was from my parents instructing her to keep me with her until they could collect me. The adult conversation of ‘troop movements and the uncertainties of public transport’ meant nothing to me, a diminutive nine-year-old. All that concerned me was that I was to have an extended holiday on my beloved farm.
Some weeks later my parents persuaded the local baker to come and fetch me. The interior of his small van had been swept clean of its crumbs, and my mother and I took our seats on the two deck chairs that had been placed in the back. As we bounced and swayed our way of the winding roads of the Brecon Beacons, I knew life would never be the same again.
School (Twynyrodyn) had still not started as the building was being used as a distribution centre for gas-masks. When it did re-open, I was one of the ‘honoured’ girls chosen to knit khaki socks and gloves for our soldiers fighting the war. I became quite skilful at knitting socks on three needles, turning heels with aplomb and completing the complicated procedure of knitting glove fingers. We chosen few were expected to carry out these tasks during story-telling sessions, assembly and play-times. The less able were conscripted to wind wool into balls from the prickly drab-coloured skeins, of which our teacher seemed to have an endless supply.
At this time, I noticed that all the insignificant little men in Twynyrodyn acquired navy uniforms and wore black tin hats with ARP written on them. They developed voices that boomed in the darkness ‘Mind that light’. They seemed to have gained a mysterious power over the neighbourhood and what was described by my granny as the ‘goings on in the black-out’.
War, to many of my school-mates, meant fathers going to work after years of squatting at street corners and being on the dole. It meant better food as regular wages came in, and rationing made it compulsory that everyone had the correct number of calories to keep healthy – something not considered essential to survival during the Depression. I was lucky, my father had always worked. Before the outbreak of war he had joined the Auxiliary Fire Service, which was formed to release the police force from fire duties. When war was declared, he and his fellow firemen were employed full time and were later to become the National Fire Service.
My father was issued with a stirrup-pump to keep at home in case any incendiary bombs fell in our neighbourhood. He would insist my mother and I practice fire drill. My poor mother, who was rather large, would puff up and down the garden steps with buckets of water, refilling the water bucket in which the stirrup-pump stood. I had the task of pumping it up and down to get the pressure going, no mean task as the pump as nearly as tall as me. My father would direct the thin erratic stream of water onto an imaginary fire. On certain days he would insist we wore our gas-masks, but as the visor misted over with condensation from our sweat, I never did see the point. He called these gas-mask drills at such odd times as when we were laying the table for supper or listening to the wireless. My father was very conscientious!!!
When the siren sounded, usually at night, never mind how often, we had to get up from bed and sit huddled on small stools under the stairs. The flickering light from an old miner’s lamp threw up shadows more frightening to me than the war. I wouldn’t be allowed back to bed until the ‘all clear’ sounded some hours later. Next day, it was school as usual; tiredness was no excuse for ‘mitching’. Only once do I remember any semblance of a raid. I was awoken one night by the violent shaking of the windows. Next day it was rumoured that a bomb had been dropped in Cwmbargoed and the vibrations had travelled a great distance. That was the night we weren’t sitting under the stairs.
When my father was at home, I was allowed to view the bombing of Cardiff, twenty-four miles away. Standing in the back doorway I’d watch the searchlights sweep the night sky and cheer when an enemy plane got caught in the beam like a hypnotized moth. The exploding shells from the ack-ack guns added to the spectacle.
Sometimes my father was away for days when the local brigade were sent to help out in badly hit areas like Coventry or Bristol. He rarely spoke about it in front of me. Only once did I hear him tell my mother that it had been so cold that their saturated jackets had frozen on them as they fought fires throughout the night.
Born Phillip Jones near Merthyr Tydfil, he attended Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School, where he was a member of the cricket and rugby teams and displayed talent as a linguist. He then studied languages at the University of Wales and the University of Vienna. He eventually spoke seven languages, including Russian and Swedish, and had a working knowledge of Huron Indian, Hindi and Mandarin.
School (Twynyrodyn) had still not started as the building was being used as a distribution centre for gas-masks. When it did re-open, I was one of the ‘honoured’ girls chosen to knit khaki socks and gloves for our soldiers fighting the war. I became quite skilful at knitting socks on three needles, turning heels with aplomb and completing the complicated procedure of knitting glove fingers. We chosen few were expected to carry out these tasks during story-telling sessions, assembly and play-times. The less able were conscripted to wind wool into balls from the prickly drab-coloured skeins, of which our teacher seemed to have an endless supply.
At this time, I noticed that all the insignificant little men in Twynyrodyn acquired navy uniforms and wore black tin hats with ARP written on them. They developed voices that boomed in the darkness ‘Mind that light’. They seemed to have gained a mysterious power over the neighbourhood and what was described by my granny as the ‘goings on in the black-out’.
down to get the pressure going, no mean task as the pump as nearly as tall as me. My father would direct the thin erratic stream of water onto an imaginary fire. On certain days he would insist we wore our gas-masks, but as the visor misted over with condensation from our sweat, I never did see the point. He called these gas-mask drills at such odd times as when we were laying the table for supper or listening to the wireless. My father was very conscientious!!!