Life is all about change over time and like it or not, we have to accept it. I was once talking to Charlie Lancaster in the Heifer and asked him about old age. He told me that in Kelbrook the old people didn't die, they dried up like horse muck and blew away. Unfortunately the same thing applied to the pubs, over the last few years the greed of the new companies who own them has resulted in closure of many and our society is the poorer for it.
I'm not sure about the early history of the Craven Heifer, I have a vague memory of a name engraved in the window glass, was it Keirby? If so, it was bought by Massey's Burnley Brewery (founded 1889) when they bought Keirby's out in 1928. They were the landlords until 1966 when they were taken over by Charrington's. In the 1950s the pub was run by a licensee who was the tenant. In those days the 'Licensed Victualler' was a respected member of the community ranking only slightly lower than the bank manager, doctor and solicitor and on roughly the same level as the head teacher, we all knew our place then! They had their own newspaper and once a week Jimmy Talbot would get dressed up and go to the victualler's weekly meeting. The licensee made all the difference to a pub. Jimmy was a fastidious man, looked after his beer and kept a clean house. He once taught me how to wipe a table properly, the last thing you should do is make sure you wipe under the edge of the table. Next time you're in a pub run your finger round the underside of the table, if you find dried droplets of beer and chewing gum you can be sure that whoever is cleaning the tables wasn't taught by the likes of Jim Talbot! By the way, I've remembered the name of the publican at the Heifer who Bob King said was miserable and kept bad beer, it was 'Fonce' Hoole. The village pub was an important asset and part of the glue that held the community together, we need to understand that linkage before we look at the specifics.
Regulars at a pub were a partisan lot and there are many examples of their loyalty to one brewer and one pub. In Stockport there used to be a saying that if the bottom dropped out of your world the best cure was to drink four pints of Robinson's Best. The following day the world would drop out of your bottom! Sorry about that but there is much to be learned from it. Beer was nourishing, relatively clean and was a good source of nutrients and vitamins. No matter how badly things were going at home, the pub was clean, warm, full of friends and and if you wanted it, oblivion. There used to be a saying in the depression of the 1930s, 'The quickest way out of Salford is three pints of beer'. Things always looked better after a couple of pints!
Attitudes to drinking were different in those days. It was quite acceptable to pop to the pub in your dinner break and have a pint. George Bleasdale, the engineer I took over from at Bancroft used to go to the Dog every day for a pint on the dinner hour, that was where I first met him and found out about mill engines. Popping in for a quick one after the day's work was common, a good opportunity to wind down after a hard day. Of course there was a problem here, as my dad used to say “One's just right, two's too many and three isn't half enough”. Many a quick pint turned into a session and caused problems at home. I remember a bloke called Arthur who was a painter and decorator at Sough. Eddie and I led him astray one evening and when we delivered him to his back door later, very much the worse for wear, he was hit on the back of his head with the long brush by his wife while waving us goodbye from the back doorstep. He went down like a falling tree and we beat a hasty retreat! Arthur had another dubious claim to fame. One evening, after hearing about a pensioner on Main Street who had a problem with a loose slate on her roof we found a ladder, sent Arthur up to fix it, took the ladder away and went back to the Heifer. It was half an hour before Arthur reappeared and he was not a happy bunny. We thought it was hilarious of course and bought him a pint. Come to think, that might have been the time he had the problem with the brush.
I know that today it is hard to believe but driving under the influence of drink was much more common and not seen as the social crime it has become today. I offer no excuses, it was another time with different attitudes. This applied even if you were driving a wagon. I remember Billy Harrison once getting a call at home one evening informing him that three of his wagons were parked outside the Pickhill Pub. He asked if their lights were on and when reassured on this point said that it was all right. He had no qualms about the drinking, only the possibility that the law on parking lights might be broken. In those days any car parked on the road during the hours of darkness had to show a parking light, can you remember the small ones we used to clip on the driver's window and leave on all night? I feel ashamed to admit it but there were times after a heavy night when I think we were still under the influence the morning after. I remember an old driver once telling me that early morning accidents weren't down solely to tired drivers who had been on the road all night but those who had just started and were still either half asleep or half-cut from the night before, he could have been right!
I've run out of space haven't I, and still not got round to the regulars at the Heifer and the stories. Never mind, we'll get round to them next week.
The Heifer in 1930. The sign on the shop is 'F Hoole' confectioner, newsagent and tobacconists. The licensee was running the shop as well.
