'The Northern'

Origins

In today’s modern world you see frequent references to ‘Business Hubs’ being the core of an urban community. Bellingham has had one for decades and was a frequent venue for us school kids and teenagers in the 1950s, when things were getting back to some kind of normal after WWII. It was officially the ‘Northern Farmers Trading Association’ but it always went by it’s short title of ‘the Northern’. It ended its days in a merger with another farm trading company.

The main part of the business was the garage which serviced and repaired all types of vehicles and machinery, under the eagle eye of manager Tom Pyle, always clad in brown overalls and wire rimmed specs on the end of his nose. His lugs (ears) worked like radar and could locate any abnormal sound (mechanical or human) indicating trouble and needing his personal attention.

Unlike today’s computer-controlled vehicles, in the 1950s engines had short lives before they needed major surgery like cylinder reboring or re-sleeving, and pistons needing de-carbonising and new rings. Spark plugs needed sand blasting and resetting. There were no hydraulic hoists and the mechanics had to climb down into a pit below the vehicle (covered in greasy wooden planks when not in use) and work with a lamp. Tom had to supervise all this work done by his many apprentices over the years. Jock Hall was one of them and became his right hand man and eventually managed the garage business when Tom retired. Others included Billy Davidson, Brian and his brother Ken Dodd and Hugh Forster.

The petrol and diesel pumps outside were another important part of the service, and being hand cranked, required the help of a garage employee, and in those days before bank cards and self-service, required payment in in cash often by greasy hands, before being taken to the office and any change returned.

Working at the Demesne farm next door to the Northern during University holidays I was a regular caller at the garage to examine the innards of any farm machines. Mechanic Hugh Foster once let me have a go at grinding the valves of the Reenes Fergie tractor in for major surgery. Hugh lost patience with me after a while for being so slow and took over the job himself.

The garage was a favourite venue for retired folk with time to kill and in need of a bit crack. Winter was their peak season attracted by the massive iron stove, glowing red like a furnace as it pumped out heat to warm the entire workshop. A regular caller was Tommy Hedley, former farmer with his parents at the Demesne. Tommy was our beloved organist at St Cuthbert’s church before moving to the Black Bull that evening to continue his musical talent. He was also resident pianist in the North Tyne Melody Makers every Saturday night.

Tommy always wore an old Burberry rain coat tied around the middle with a length of binder twine, and a vent at the back when open allowed him to warm his rear end at the stove. Willie Potts’s rear end and smoker’s cough was also a regular client of the stove. There was no charge for the heat as it was usually rewarded by some choice information about what was ‘gan on’ in the village.

The ‘meal hoose’ attached to the garage was a great fun place for us kids going past on our way home from school which the ‘meal hoose supervisors (Jim Mason, Jackie Potts) kindly ignored. Animal feed came in bags from the millers like Spillers and British Oil and Cake Mills (BOCM) on Tyneside, and after lifting up to the second floor by an electric operated hoist, was stacked in rows so each bag could be easily picked up on the sack barrow to fill each farm order. We used to jump from row to row and play with the cats which were essential to battle vermin, especially rats that lived near the burn.

Farm tools such as hay rakes and forks were housed up there, with a few always displayed in the small showroom shop attached to the office. The business office was under the overall management of Noah (Noey) Nichol where the staff sat on high stools at high sloping desks recording data in pen and ink (newly available ballpoint pens were not approved) in large ledgers, each item ruled off with a round ebony ruler which you could roll down the page. The typists on the staff then prepared invoices to go out to customers.

Orders were taken by Billy Lawrence who was the ‘farm traveller’ and his job was more than the orders. He was also the carrier of local news and commentary on varied topics of the day. And it was good manners to eat all the scones and home-made jam put before him! Orders when made up were delivered by Jimmy Forster of Snow Hall who drove the Northern wagon.

But the office ‘staff’ became the major attraction when we laddies grew up and became gobby, sex-hungry teenagers, and started going to the dances looking for female company or more. The office girls then all became young attractive ladies – Nancy Brown, Mildred Pigg and Violet Reed. Nancy and Mildred lived in Reedsmouth and cycled to work, even cycling home for lunch and back each day, and of course cycling to the dances on a Saturday night in all weathers. They both went to Skerry’s College in Newcastle to do the shorthand/typing course when I did the secondary one, as along with nearly all Joe Lumley’s pupils at the Reed’s school, I failed the 11+ exam for the Grammar School.

But there was a major problem in the office when we lads wanted to make closer contact with the ladies, and not just through the large windows between the office and the garage. The problem was Miss Armstrong! Nobody ever knew if she had a first name – she was always Miss Armstrong and clearly (and rightly), didn’t approve of us young bucks leering and making suggestive signs to her staff through the large office windows. We often debated who dare go into the office on what appeared to be legitimate farm business, and risk their lives by suddenly giving her a kiss! Nobody ever volunteered! She lodged with the Nichols family and I was always on best behaviour when attending their sons’ John and Gilbert’s birthday parties in Percy Terrace as they were school pupils with me. Gilbert – an intelligent lad was the only pupil in my time who ever passed the 11+ exam.

So there should be a plaque somewhere to all those who worked at The Northern for their great contribution to Bellingham and the North Tyne valley over so many decades.