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Retired lighthouse keeper Harold Taylor continues his memoirs:-
The reliefs on the Western Rocks were not as at other stations. Instead of working on a 28 day month with reliefs on a set day, they worked a 29 day month, and ones second month did not start till the relief had been completed, so the keepers going ashore were guaranteed 29 days ashore. This presented it own problems.
For instance I had discovered that I could travel over night from my home to Penzance, without going through London. But I could not do this on a Saturday night. The problem also arose that so many west country organisations seemed to choose Saturday for a day out. This had disastrous results.
I would get to Waterloo and find that all seats were booked, and despite walking the length of the train be unable to find a seat even if arriving early.
This 29 day relief did have its draw backs, for instance, arriving in the Depot town on a Bank Holiday, or a Sunday. There would be local agreement with the crews that they could turn in late because the shops would not be open.
These arrangements would not be passed on to those who had to come in from far away, and possibly make their travelling situation easier. I recall once having to leave on a Boxing Day, but I could just as easily have left a day later.
Xmas 62, was a particularly violent one for weather, and my wife's mother was in hospital with a re-occurrence of cancer. There were snow drifts of three and four feet. On the Boxing Day, because no transport was able to run, I made my way in to the hospital to visit her.
A few days later I returned to Penzance, arriving on a Sunday morning, to find that they had experienced a winter outside living memory. Everywhere had frozen or burst pipes and I could not get refreshments anywhere. The locals acted as though the Atomic Bomb had fallen, and seemed stunned as to what to do.
My mother-in-law died on 22nd November,1963, the day more readily remembered as the day Kennedy was assassinated. Thereby hangs another story. It also tells me that I made a mistake about my transfer from Bardsey. My initial move was to Hanois. It was because of the illness, and my wife being an only child, I did not want to remove her from the opportunity to visit her mother during her illness.
The morning of the 22nd November, 1963 I was on morning watch and there was a heavy sea running, with plenty of wind. Very shortly after coming on watch I made a journey to the engine room, or that was my intention, but as I passed the battery room; the room below the kitchen, I saw water coming across the stair flat and down the stairs.
I was curious as to where this water was coming from. It was coming from the tunnel through the walls which housed the crane jib. The aperture was about 2 feet 6 inches square and about 6 feet long. But it was not quite as simple as that, because the crane jib was intended to be allowed to go through that hole and project over the S.W. landing as well as the opposite side.
Since a major tragedy during the war, when a boat load of people were lost during a relief, the crane had not been used that side, and the water proof gun metal flap had been closed. Therefore the hole was still full of crane, which was of massive construction represented by two beams of gun metal, each a foot deep and two inches thick these were joined together with a gap of about two inches between.
The beam could be run out either side by a mechanism in the centre of the room and rollers set in the floor. Before each tunnel was another mechanism for opening the flaps at either side. So to get into this tunnel to see how the water was getting in with each breaking wave that ran up the tower, I had to squeeze myself into this tunnel along the top of the beam having somehow snaked my body over the turning gear which finished up between my legs once I was in the hole. Thus making it extremely difficult to extract myself.
Apart from that difficulty I had another, which was, every time a wave broke, sea water was forced through the gap blinding me, and by the time I recovered I was just in time to catch the next one.
I eventually realised what the situation was. Some person at sometime had sealed this crack with putty and the force of the sea had finally forced the putty out of the crack. Whether the trap door did not make a good fitting in the first place I do not know, nor do I know whether it was the fact that someone had tried to seal the door by lining it with putty before winding it shut, caused the situation.
All I knew was that there was a crack through which sea water was entering the building and flooding the floor about 70 feet above sea level. My intention was to stop it. This I did by finding several pieces of wood. One I curved into the shape of the panel, the other two I made into wedges.
I then lined the crack with rag, placed my curved piece on top of it and wedged it in place at the entry point with my two wedges. This stopped the sea coming in. Having spent an exhausting and frustrating period of time doing this work I retired to the kitchen for a cup of tea, and whilst listening to the wireless learned of the Assassination of the President.
Later that day I had a phone call from my wife with her news as well. At low water when we were not having any sea coming up the tower I got some cement and sand which had been left over from the Low Light job and made a cement box to cover the leaking area.
Some months later a Mason came and built a brick wall across the tunnel. I had inscribed the legend of both deaths in my cement block and it might still be hidden there to this day.
The keepers on the tower at the time were John Malins a Bournemouth lad, who was a trained Psychiatric nurse, and Dallas Stone an S.A.K. from Bristol, whose mother had been frightened by a Yank. Poor Dallas, he was the only person I ever saw get wet on a relief by being dropped in the water, although it was always possible.
It was a bit of a rough relief and the boat crew had allowed a bit of slack to come into the lines, with the result that the boat came into the tower causing the crane rope to dip. Dallas had some medical problems as well. In growing toe nails. These had turned septic, and I got John on the job of treating him at the same time requesting that he be taken ashore on the relief for treatment. I was lucky I had few medical problems to deal with during my service.
I was always innovative, to make life easier. Once when ashore I saw advertised Marvel dried milk, a Cadbury product. I tried it locally and decided to order it in my food order when I went back, but I discovered that they had never heard of it in the wilds of Cornwall.
Next time home I wrote away to find where I could obtain the stuff, only to discover that my nearest bulk supply place was Southampton, and the stuff was manufactured in France. I was therefore forced to take it with me, and was quite refreshing compared to Evaporated or Condensed milk products. My success was short lived however.
Not long afterwards I returned from leave to find that during the month, as an advertising campaign, Express Dairies had, with the aid of a local fisherman from Cawsands, delivered 72 cartons of UHT milk, a new product on the market. They had been divided out to give each of us regular keepers 18 each.
With a keeping life of 3 months they were a good thing. Stan I understand had his photo taken and put up on hoardings, but I never saw any of them. I am surprised he did so as he was against any publicity. In fact it was because if this that I appeared on T.V. in 'What's My Line'.
When I went ashore one relief I was asked to go and see the Superintendent, who was Whiffey Harris, he explained to me that B.B.C. T.V. had made a request to have 'The Keeper of the Eddystone Light'.
The song by Shirley Abacair was still quite popular. Stan had refused to do the job, was I prepared to do it, Trinity were anxious to please. I accepted. It was a bit of a disastrous affair, and a bit of a giggle, and I think took place on screen at Easter 1964.
I got the telegram to attend and took my two eldest children to London for the day. The boy was into train spotting at the time and had charge of his younger sister until we were to meet up at the studio in the evening. I had to be there something like 11 a.m.
It started off with going through mock panels to get us used to the action and see what type of performers we were. They recorded two programmes at a time. One of the other contestants with me was a Brigadier who organised the Edinburgh Festivals. It was rather a coincidence that as my minder for the day was taking me down to the canteen after my interview, he was quizzing me on my job when we bumped into Barbara Kelley and Elizabeth Barnett two of the panellists.
When the recording was due, we were taken to the set to meet Emanon Andrews. By this time my children had met me and I had been made up for the screen. There was the hospitality trolley there, but no one offered anything and I did not see anyone help themselves.
Eamonn recognised the badges on my children's blazers and asked them a few questions before they went into the audience. Behind the set we met the two guests. The one for my show was Terry Thomas, who when he came on they could not get him off and spoilt the performance in fact.
I believe because of his non stop patter they only got through three contestants. I was guessed, but that was not difficult, because as soon as the audience were informed that I came from Worthing and questions came up about the sea, the audience cheer leader took over and it was a forgone conclusion. Principally because the title had been changed to plain 'Lighthouse Keeper'. The other guest artist was a more interesting fellow, Leo Apsy the M.P.
Time passed very quickly and I was concerned about catching the last train back to Worthing that night and missed the opportunity to meet Linda Christian, who was a guest on the next recording. She was the widow of Tyrone Power, and I had met him shortly before he died on location. I had my little bit of local press and popularity. After I got home I felt rather embarrassed, for I discovered I still had my make up on. I had noticed queer looks on the bus, but my children had not remarked.
Continued in part 6.
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