Whilst the old grey cells continue to function Southwark will always hold a special place in my memory banks. It was the place that introduced me to the LFB; it was also the location of my very last day in the Brigade too. In the intervening years I served at Southwark fire station twice, was privilege to run the recruits’ section and play a part in the revamp 0f Southwark STC and orchestrated the fight to save Southwark from closure. (We won that time…) A tale that will resonate with many-the first introduction with that scruffy, run-down place simply referred to as Southwark.
Fifty-nine years ago, my adventure with the LFB started. My junior fireman’s application form, having been completed in my best joined up writing, was sent off. What it lacked in school exam results (or academic prowess) was made up for by selling my Sub Aqua skills for all they were worth. If this made any difference I never discovered. But just after my sixteenth birthday, in January 1965, I was invited to attend the junior firemen selection tests with the LCC/LFB at Southwark. The place showed none of its former glory days and was largely now hidden behind its semi-derelict, four-storey, frontage facing on Southwark Bridge Road. It was behind this frontage that our futures would be determined.
The LCC recruitment hut, for that is all it was, a shabby wooden hut, was located on the northern side of the training school. It stood at the end of a long narrow cobbled yard. The civilian staff welcomed us and ticked off our names of that day’s candidates. We were a collection of hopefuls, but nervous, adolescent lads. We were in stark contrast to the other firemen recruits there. They all looked at least ten years older, much stronger, and far more self-assured than us kids!
There were around twenty prospective ‘cadets’ in that day’s selection intake. We were required to take the educational test; undertake physical exercises; and undergo a medical examination at County Hall. Finally, and if any got that far, attend an interview at the Lambeth Headquarters. Directed into a room in the hut we each sat at single desks where the ‘civvy’ took us through the English, maths, and dictation examinations. (I would discover that they used the same tests more than once because written on my wooden desk, and on the ruler, were answers to some of the sums and a couple the more difficult spellings. So, thanks to the aid of the desk and ruler I completed the tests. (But maybe we just had to prove we could actually read and write?)
The two strength tests can next. These were conducted in the narrow-cobbled courtyard by someone wearing a fire brigade uniform. He introduced himself as a Sub Officer. Squat in stature he looked extremely powerful. In a surly voice he explained what was expected of us boys whilst trying to put us at our ease. We had to pass these two separate strength tests to go on to the next stage of the selection process.
The Sub Officer divided into pairs. Each pair being approximately the same height and weight. We were required to perform the fireman’s lift and carry our new found companion one hundred yards in less than one minute. By way of a demonstration, and without a pause for breath, the Sub Officer hoisted the largest of our group onto his shoulder and trotted off down the drill yard. At the end he about turned, fifty yards away, and effortlessly paced his way back. He had not the faintest hint exertion and walking as though he was not carrying anyone. It was our turn and the first ten moved towards their partners who they were to carry. Three either fell off those lifting or slid down their backs. One poor soul was lifted with such gusto that he was thrown completely over the shoulder of this youthful powerlifter; landing in an undignified heap on the ground. The Sub Officer sudden outburst of expletives, and its tone, made us quake in our boots. He told the powerlifter, in no uncertain terms, that he was meant to hold onto his partner and he was not “tossing an effing caber!” The poor lad, on the ground, was left feeling the lump on his forehead. He got little sympathy from the still berating Sub Officer. A man who seemed totally unimpressed by the antics of his juvenile charges.
He encouraged us to get our act together and dispatched the first pairs off down the yard. Some were clearly staggering under the weight on their backs. All made it, except for one. One rather rotund youth was clearly having trouble. As we were heading back up the yard he was still going down. Huffing and puffing and clearly struggling. The Sub Officer was not as hard as he made out. He let the sweating, and heavily breathing, lad catch his breath and try again. Sadly, he fared no better the second time. He went back to the hut and we did not see him again.
One down we moved onto the second test. This involved winding the handle on the side of a metal A-frame that was firmly secured to the ground. It had a wire running from a central drum, over a pulley and connected to a large weight that stood on the ground. You lifted the weight by turning the handle. This was, apparently, geared to make the test the equivalent of winding up a fifty-foot wheeled escape ladder, something we had seen the recruits using in the main drill yard. Again, the Sub Officer again demonstrated what was expected. Something he did with ease and we watched as the weight rose smoothly and rapidly to the top of the frame.
“That’s it my lovelies, just do that in one minute”.
He had done it in well under the time allowed. The powerlifter opted to go first. We looked on in horror as he struggled to raise the weight in the time. Red faced he was obviously relieved that he made it. Sadly, another of our number, even after a second attempt, didn’t. He was on his way home too. The rest of us managed it but not without a struggle.
Just before lunch those remaining were given the results of the educational tests. Fire brigade fashion that is as two names were called out and told to go to the hut. We did not see them again either. The rest of us were sent off to training school canteen for lunch. This was our first glimpse of real junior firemen, the LCC’s first two squads. But they seemed rather puny against the other adult recruits. Our small group of potential cadets felt very conspicuous in our civilian clothes. Everyone else was wearing various types of firemen’s uniform and kit, so we huddled at a large corner table at the back of the canteen. We kept our heads down, ate our lunch, and said very little.
After lunch we were driven to County Hall, on the South Bank, for the medical examinations. County Hall was the headquarters of the then LCC and would soon become the new home of the enlarged GLC. We were driven there in a green box van. A van that had no side windows and we sat in the rear on the two rows of hard wooden bench seats. The driver, a grey-haired middle-aged stout, fireman was wearing old blue overalls. His trousers held up by a wide black leather belt that tried, in vain, to contain an enormous beer gut. He clearly enjoyed the short journey and derived great pleasure by throwing us out of our seats by turning corners too fast or braking hard, which seemed all too frequently.
We arrived shaken and dishevelled at the steps of County Hall only to be directed by our grinning driver to its main entrance and told to ask for the medical department. Eventually, we found the medical department on one of the upper floors. We were immediately greeted by a nurse who handed out strange flute shaped glass containers that we were told to pee in. The medical continued with the doctor poking in our ears; sticking wooden sticks in our mouths; before reading from eyesight charts and having our hearing checked.
The doctor looked incredibly old with pale wrinkly skin. He had sunken eyes and narrow unsmiling mouth. He was also small and his white coat came down almost to his shoes. Whilst he listened to our breathing he wheezed noisily. His brown stained fingers giving a clue as to the cause! It was here the medical took a very different direction from our school medicals. I felt distinctly uncomfortable. We were told to drop our trousers and remove our underpants. With our private parts exposed they were given his professional scrutiny. I was instructed to cough whilst his shaky hand cupped my testicles! After the medical was over.
(Note: The height requirement, then, for a man [only men] joining the London Fire Brigade was five feet eight inches. If you joined the Junior Firemen scheme you had to be at least five feet six inches and reach five feet eight inches by your eighteenth birthday. How was this potential growth determined? Well, apparently, it was all dependent on the sizes of your balls. Some clever individual had come up with a formula that the size of your balls at sixteen could determine your height by eighteen. A dubious “fact” that indicated which of those under five feet eight inches had the potential to grow taller. Sadly for a few height-impaired cadets it was discovered that this very doubtful measuring system was not infallible. By the time they reached their eighteenth birthday their balls had delusions of grandeur and their size proved to be no indication of their owner’s ability to reach the required height.)
The last round of the day were the selection interviews, conducted at the Brigade’s Lambeth Headquarters. Transported again in the box-van we were escorted to the second floor and told to wait in an office. We were called one by one for interview. Our numbers dwindled as individual candidates were called for and made their way home without returning to the office. Eventually my turn came. I was shown into a very imposing office overlooking the river Thames. Two uniformed senior officers were sat behind a wide wooden desk.
Whilst one introduced themselves the other picked up a file and asked me to confirm if the details, he read out were accurate? Clear recall of the interview has faded but the officers appeared more interested in my swimming and sub aqua ability than anything else. Having rehearsed some impressive reasons for wanting to join the London Fire Brigade I was never asked why I wanted to join! They did however mention my failure at the previous eyesight test with the Metropolitan Police cadet scheme and pointed out that this is something they would have to investigate with the Medical Officer. They said they would be in touch and let me know if I had been accepted or not. The “or not” sounded rather ominous. Their decision would be notified by letter, and it was. The letter duly arrived at my parent’s home in Kent. I had been accepted and my LFB adventure started.
Footnote:
The Junior Fireman scheme was started in 1964 by the London County Council, prior to the change over to the Greater London Council (GLC) in April 1965. In 1969, and in the final months of the then Chief Officer’s tenure, the plug was pulled on the Junior Firemen’s scheme and the Swanley Training College was closed. The GLC cited financial reasons and despite strenuous opposition from the Labour GLC councillors they was no reprieve. Almost 300 boys (16-17 years old) entered the London Fire Brigade via the Junior Firemen scheme. Like their adult counterparts, some rose to higher rank, two to Chief Officer rank. One tragically died. Temporary Leading Fireman Michael Lee was killed at Goswell Road in 1969. Two former Junior Fireman remain serving in the LFB after over fifty years continuous service.
A retired London Fireman 