I recently came across a photograph I took in 1977 of a fire appliance, which immediately triggered memories of Newton Abbot Fire Brigade, the nearby clay mines – and why my father owned a Volkswagen Beetle. There was a powerful link between these seemingly disparate elements.
1977 was the year of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, which I celebrated by signing up for the Fuller’s Quest for Silver, the aim of which was to enjoy beer in every Fuller’s pub in London. That is a story for another day!
The Newton Abbot Carnival, held in July every year, starts with a procession through the town from Courtenay Park (opposite the railway station) to the bus station (Kingsteignton Road), which sadly no longer exists. Needless to say, the theme for the 1977 procession was the Silver Jubilee.
I managed to take a few photographs on a disposable camera, but sadly most of them were out of focus. One photograph came out reasonably well and triggered a series of memories. It is a picture of a Newton Abbot Fire Brigade fire appliance in the Carnival procession and just passing the War Memorial.
In the mid-to-late 1970’s I was at university and living in London, but only during term time. Summer holidays were spent at home, where I sought to supplement my student grant by working 13-hour shifts at Devon Cleaners and Launderers in Torquay. However, the Carnival is usually around the time of my birthday, so I took time off.
Working underground
During the 1960s and 1970s my father was a clay miner working a European-style 3-shift system. It was hard, dirty work in dangerous and very damp conditions. For a working class man at the time it was also the best paid job in Newton Abbot.
As a young teenager I was allowed to enter the mine once, and it put me off for life. Not only was the space confined but it was dark and very wet and very slimy. I slipped more than once trying to gain a purchase on the wet clay underfoot. It was dank and cold and I did not like it at all – and I only got in a few metres!
I learned however that a many varieties of ball clay and kaolin from Newton Abbot was shipped all over the world and used as a filler in everything from toothpaste to paint as well as in the construction and ceramics industries. I remember being told that a surprisingly high proportion of a Volkswagen Beetle was made of Newton Abbot clay – the figure of 13 per cent springs to mind, mainly for the paint and various plastics.
Retained Fireman
Not content with harsh shift-work, my father was also a retained fireman in the Newton Abbot brigade. It is highly likely that, had we settled in his neighbourhood rather than that of my mother, he would have been a full-time fireman in the Paisley Fire Brigade. But instead I grew up in Devon and not Renfrewshire.
As you might imagine, he sometimes came home with some pretty awful stories to tell. I can remember him coming home once and bringing a sickening odour with him. He was distressed. For some hours he had been fighting a fire at farm buildings, where a number of animals were burned alive. He also attended road traffic accidents and had to cut people out of cars.
Gorse fires on Dartmoor would often rage for days and even weeks, keeping him and many others busy – and away from their normal jobs – for long periods. It was just as well that most employers – including the clay company – were happy to enable workers to attend fire call-outs, or ‘shouts’ as they were known.
Alarm Bells Ringing
Our council house had a large and very loud alarm bell fitted, which could go off at any time of the day or night. My father had to be out and into the fire station as quickly as he could, so needed a car that would start first time regardless of the weather. And that is why we had a Volkswagen Beetle with a very reliable air-cooled engine.
That alarm worked only too well, regardless of whether my father was at home or not. What would happen if he was at work and deep underground?
There is, of course, no such alarm in a clay mine. Instead there was a system put in place by his employer and the fire brigade that involved relaying a message to my father. And he was not the only one; one or two other mine workers were also retained firemen.
However, by the time he got ‘up top’, out of his mining gear, into his car and into the fire station, all appliances would invariably have left, leaving him on stand-by.
A Roundabout Story
Clearly, the link between these three seemingly disparate things is my father. As a miner he needed a reliable and inexpensive car to get him to work – and home again. Being a retained fireman required a car that would start first time in any weather, and time of the day or night. The Volkswagen was such a car. My father learned from his employer in one of their regular briefings that a relatively high proportion of a Volkswagen was made of clay, sourced from Newton Abbot. In other words, my father could claim that he provided some of the raw materials for his car! A rather satisfying circular story of unexpected connections.
Postscript
Returning to the 1977 Carnival, here is another photograph that may be of interest. Not a fire appliance but a bus! In this case a Devon General bus that was completely covered in an advertisement for another of Newton Abbot’s major employers – Launa Windows. The bus is seen passing the multi-storey car park looking, in my view, better than it does now. It is on Sherborne Road, which is now a bus stand, and nowhere near as effective or useful as the bus station of old.
Colin Anderson 
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