I was born in 1932 in a very tiny house up Dog and Duck steps, My mother Clara Pickering, one of six children, lived in Wykeham Stret at the time of Scarborough Bombardment, Dec 16th 1914.
My Dad, Joseph Fell Cook Bielby, was one of three sons born in Church Steps, just below St Mary’s Church.
When old enough my father sailed in many different trawlers, the last being the “Emulator”. After the ship was attacked at sea ( my father is actually in the picture you have posted on your website where the enemy has destroyed their mutton dinner) my mother convinced him to come ashore. I know at the same time he also worked for builder Charlie Day as did his brother Tom. Tom later went into the army and served in the 8th Army in the middle east and Italy and returned home safely. Dad, until it was time to retire, worked at Plaxtons as a machinist.
His other brother Matthew, who worked on the local trawlers, joined the Navy and was transferred to the converted trawler “Gairsay” as a stoker. It was attacked I believe by a man operated torpedo. He was drowned but there were a few men on the upper decks who survived.
I’ve only one memory of Dog and Duck steps and that was all the kids having to go inside the house, doors locked. The reason being fisherman are superstitious that a ghost “ Hairy Bob”? would be walking.
Next, we moved just a few yards away up a short lane to Clarkson Yard. Being the front of a block of four houses, the back of the houses were on Quay St. Our neighbors were Holden Sheader ( Uncle Holden) coxswain of the lifeboat and son Bill (also coxswain later) and daughter Mary. Also Tom Flynn ( lighthouse keeper) and family also I believe the Darnell family.
The property was very old and basic. We had only one door into the house. Big oak beams and the only lighting in the whole house were two gas lights above the cast iron fireplace, candles were the other option.
We had a gas oven but the only water into the house was a sink and tap in a cupboard. Every drop had to be heated on the oven. Strange enough there was two floors upstairs with four bedrooms. The windows were the old fashioned “bullet” glass. The view from them was of the four outdoor toilets and the communal wash house. Again, only cold water was available that was heated in a copper that needed a fire built underneath.
Washing in winter time was grim.
My first school was Friarage school at the splendid age of 3.5. When the war broke out many things started to happen, carrying a gas masks everywhere you go, rations books, blackout for a few. As we had no immediate bomb shelters we were allotted a house to go to for shelter. I and Lewis Archer were to run to a house that used to be a few doors above the building you are in today, obviously long ago now. Most of the kids living close to the harbour played on the sands even on the way home. When the mine appeared there on the sands we found if we hung on it one each side you could rock it. I think it was the army that came and defused it so it was harmless, so we thought. That day we found out differently as my Mum picked me up from school to go shopping. On the way home, passing the Britannia pub across from the joke shop, the mine blew up. I remember pieces of red hot metal raining down and one actually hit my pram. I unfortunately knew the boy who was killed as we often played together on the sands.
Just after that there was a heavy bombing raid luckily we all were at the pictures. We got home to find the house in a scary state so we had to move out and ended up in Prospect Rd near Northway. At first it was fairly peaceful but as the bombing got worse the planes would drop incendiary bombs on Dennis’ factory that produced paper goods mainly greeting cards. As the German planes were returning that part of the town was really lit up. Our final move was to 32 Britannia St where we saw out the end of the war and where my parents lived until they passed away.
Schooling was really different after leaving Friarage. So many refugees arrived we did half-day classroom teaching. But as it happened the other part of the day we were able to experience new things out doors. Nature walks, learning history from buildings, the harbor, art gallery, museum, outside sports, gardening and even attending concerts at the spa while the London orchestra practiced in peace.
I also had time to help my aunt Hilda Sheader ( nee Hilda Pickering). Pip (Harry Sheader) her husband had a coble named “Hilda” with Babe and Frank Sheader as crew. I learnt how to dress crabs, lobsters and shell fish. Odd times I helped in the baiting shed mostly shucking queens and mussels, not very nice on a cold day. My Aunt Hilda had a crab stall on the front.
One stormy day the lifeboat over turned coming round the far pier. We ran round to the lifeboat slipway and there was Uncle Holdon (Uncle Pip’s older brother or Uncle need to check the family tree) making his way ashore. We waded in to help as his waders and oilskin was weighing him down. I believe not long after the new boats were able to right themselves. They also lived in the old house bottom of Tut Hill. Below in the basement was a very dark cellar and I believe a hefty door, where it went I don’t know.
During the quite times my Dad used to take out gentlemen sport fishing to catch ‘Tunny”, these fish would end up on a bed of ice in a tent and you could spend a small fee to see them. I also remember having a picture of him on the pier with other men stretching out a 26’ squid. I also remember a time when someone pushed me away from the baskets that had just landed with fish while waiting for my Uncle to fill my “bass” as there was a large eel that was trying to escape it was pretty scary. My dad was also on the “fishermen’s” football team that years ago was played opposite the fireman on “Monkey Island”
I guess I spent hours on the pier for one reason or another but one that has stayed with me is learning how to knit. When the last of the Scottish herring boats would come the girls would wait on the pier to gut them and put them in barrels. While they waited I was lucky enough to be taught at such a young age to knit. I learnt the basics of fairisle from those girls on the pier. I’ve since learnt that in the early days of Scottish settlers that they also taught the first nation Indian women fairisle. From that they now produce outerwear in colors and designs of their culture called “Indian Sweaters”
The little building now Pulsford shop was at one time called the ‘Bethal”, mast fisherman wives and kids would go there. I believe it was a seaman’s mission. When there was a loss at sea every one would congregate at the St Thomas and sing hymns for those who perished at sea.
