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Lifestory Showcase - Greenshields
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Archie Greenshields, one of eight children, lived his young days in Chichester, for the first three years of his life with his grandmother and then with his parents, both houses being in Tower Street. He was born in 1920.
Archie shares with us some of his childhood memories. This is taken from a book he has written, starting with his earliest memories up until the time when he was a prisoner of war for five years. Archie tells us: -
During the early 1930's the latest American craze hit the streets of Chichester and suddenly it was every boy's dream to possess a yo-yo. The word was passed from one boy to another of where this toy could be purchased, and toy shops began to stock up, soon to run out when the demand was greater than the supply.
There was one shop, I believe next door to St. Olaves Church, that is now the S.P.C.K. Bookshop in North Street, who sold deluxe yo-yos for a half crown (a month of errand running might just about raise this sum by me). This deluxe model had spare strings that had been specially wound, so that the owner of the toy could carry out the complex manoeuvre of 'going round the world' or even to 'walk the dog', both of these amazing skills hardly ever possible with cheaper models sold elsewhere.
The boys in our family quickly realised that we were likely to be last in the 'sack race of life' when it came to owning a yo-yo, with the likelihood of a long wait until Christmas when one might appear. The only other chance of being able to play with one would be if a playmate responded to an earnest plea of, 'gi's a go, will yer, go on'.
Father had three disappointed sons by the time the craze was in full sway and he obviously knew there could be no chance of buying all three a present of new models. In spite of the difference in our ages, each would have had to be treated equally. After his evening meal, on yet another yo-yo-less day, without saying anything to us, he sat down cross-legged by the door to our coal hole, which was under the staircase.
From the bag he always carried to work, he produced some small off-cuts of timber, probably bits of floorboard. He took out his sharp penknife and a file from his biscuit tin tool box, and set to work whittling away at the pieces of wood to get the shape he wanted. Finally, he rubbed away with his file and some sandpaper to smooth the rough edges of his creation.
The finished articles looked like dissembled yo-yos it is true, but in effect looking as though created by one of the Flintstones of cartoon fame. To our impatient watching eyes, we could hardly wait for him to use a red hot poker to make an axle hole in order to fix the mushroom shaped sides together, for he had no Black & Decker drill to make it with!
Finally, all three toys were completed and pieces of string knotted to each, then he was ready for the trial spin. I wish I could say that this was a success, but I remember the first attempt was a disastrous failure due to several factors - the weight ratio, dynamics, or centrifugal forces. Yes, his model of the yo-yo arrived at the bottom of its downward spin, climbed up again, to descend again at an even faster rate, but only then to fly across the parlour floor in pieces.
Eventually, through trial and error, all three toys were completed to his satisfaction and, of course, by that time we could hardly wait to show our chums the next morning.
My two younger sisters, who had watched most of the operations and had begged to have a go when he had finished making them, decided that they might be able to produce a more lady-like copy.
So they quickly produced miniature versions of the yo-yo simply by sewing together two very large matching coat buttons scrounged from Mum's sewing box, and operating them with lengths of button thread. At least within a few days, all of us had been satisfied and, like all crazes, it seemed to last all too shortly, for streets and playgrounds are filled by fickle children falling to the prey of yet another passing fancy.
It is amazing how the latest novelties or games are caught on so speedily by children from street to street and to their school playgrounds.
When marbles were 'in fashion', every boy would play and collect as many as possible, no matter that you might be a poor player, it was how many you possessed that counted. It was the same with whipping tops, the time came round when every boy wanted one, and only the 'wimps', or girls, played with the stubby carrot-shaped tops. The more aggressive boys used the mushroom shaped 'window breakers', so named because with a good whiplash they tended to fly a fair distance. All these tops described have become collectable items in the present decade (1990's), much to my great surmise.
Some toy shops sold a particular self-assembled glider; one where the wing was pushed through a slot in the cardboard body that was weighted with a circular piece of lead, and put into flight with a strong elastic propulsion. These were not very expensive but every child wanted one and ran errands for pennies in order to ensure they owned one before the next vogue appeared.
April Fool's Day was more popular in my day than in the present, when all sorts of jokes could be played on friends, but of course only up until 12 noon when the joke was on the japer. The First of May was always 'Kick Bum Day' and was quite unpleasant. A timid boy would have to ensure that he could by-pass a gang of bigger boys he might meet on this auspicious day.
Confectioners and newsagents stocked up too with favours, representing Oxford and Cambridge Blues two or three weeks before the Boat Race. Motifs of a racing craft with the light or dark blue of the respective University colours were regularly worn by many. Particular groups of cronies would sport a particular 'blue' and when chancing upon a long supporter of the other crew, would punch or pummel their captive into changing his allegiance. Oh yes, the streets were just as much a jungle then as they can be to today, I am ashamed to say.
In spite of illustrating the comparison and similarities, with the needs and more, characteristic of present day communities, which are just as strongly felt, our sights were in no way set as high. I shudder to think how my parents would have reacted to some demands. Such as listening to their offspring's requests for mountain bikes, Nintendo games, or even the pump-up trainer shoes.
I can't even begin to imagine what, in another fifty years time, children will be demanding from their parents.
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