John Hunter
John Hunter (Sanny) on Clatteringshaws PDF Print E-mail
Written by Hilda McAdam   
Saturday, 09 January 2010 17:55
John Hunter (Sanny) on Clatteringshaws

I started work with the Galloway Water Power Company at Clatteringshaws with A M Carmichael in March 1932 and was employed making the new road from Clatteringshaws Farm to the Dee Bridge.  Also on the new road to Craignell and Craigencallie.  The most of my time on that road was spent building the bridge over the Pullaugh aqueduct at the far end of the dam.

I am speaking in the first person as my experiences were in common with most of the personnel that worked on the scheme.

It was there that I first learned to work with concrete and I think I can say I worked the first batch of concrete that went into Clatteringshaws Dam – in the anchor block erected at the Craignell side of the dam by Carmichael as a key for the dam, which was to be erected later.  Also there I was instructed in the correct manner in which to timber a trench, by two old-time navvies, one of whom went by the name of James McGivern, who was a native of Ayr.  The other was an Irishman who I knew only by the name of Hashy Dan – his real name was probably only known to God, the time-keeper and some registrar in some remote place.  One thing I should be grateful for is that I am thoroughly grounded in that art by these two ancient men.  To be a good timber man was the mecca of all real navvies.  I saw the finished job when the timber was withdrawn and I would like to say that, with the exception of an extension to the spillway wall at the Deugh Dam, and a new piece of spillway floor at the Ken Dam, which was constructed when I was in charge of the Civil Maintenance Squad, I have not seen better finished concrete work over the whole of the Galloway Power Scheme.

With Carmichael at Clatteringshaws was a great number of elderly men, mainly Irishmen who had worked in the north of Scotland at Kinlochleven and Rosyth before and during the First World War.  They were an awfully decent and hardworking class of men.  Their great regret was that the Miner’s Strike in 1927, when lots of fellows had come to work on public works had brought their reputation and the skills of the old time navvies, into disrepute.  That is as it may be, all that I know is that I had a great deal of respect and admiration for those old-time navvies.

I left Carmichael’s and started to build the dam proper with a Glasgow firm by the name of Shanks and McEwan.  This was a different proposition altogether, few old navvies were in the ranks there – hard work was the order and motto of this firm.  I never in my life assisted at the carrying and laying of so many main line rails, heavy sleepers and timbers for evermore.

However there were compensations, for after a month or two of apprenticeship or probation, I was elevated to the Black Squad and had the rather doubtful honour of being one of the few who built a 15ton crane from it’s foundations in one day and had it steaming, ready for action at night.  I was told that this was a record for Shanks.  If that was so, it would be a record for anyone.

Afterwards, when the construction of the dam was in operation, I was put on the crusher to do any running repairs on her.  As this entailed working when the machines were standing – mealtimes, etc. - I had a great deal of time to observe the men and manners, and had a bird’s-eye view of the works from the top of the gauging station.  I was greatly amused at times by the things which happened.

As well as the men we called navvies, there were quite a few tradesmen on the job – joiners, blacksmiths, sawyers, quarrymen whom we called ‘suggers’, a Fifeshire word, I believe, meaning a stone breaker, crane and engine drivers.  I would say here that crane drivers were a class by themselves, their daily pay was even 19/6 a shift.  Predominant, of course, was the navvy, and what a number of skills was to be found in their ranks.  Plate-layers, drillers, concrete workers, gangers, pump attendants, timbermen, steel erectors, sparkies, as well as the skilful art of being a good man with pick and shovel.  It certainly took them all to build the dam.  All working, more or less, to the specifications of the Civil Engineer.

As has been said before, the navvy was a restless creature, and it didn’t take much offence to throw up his job.  Old faces disappeared and every day a new one arrives.  Most came on tramp, and if they were not to fall foul of the contractor or his agent for a day or two intil they had got some feed into their stomachs and their strength back, they were all right.  But unfortunately this did not always happen and many a poor chap got his marching orders through very little fault of his own.  However, it was a very happy job and I met many strange men and heard many a strange tale; I often think that many of these lads I knew and worked with would be killed in the Second World War.

I worked on many other parts of the scheme.  Stage Eleven, as it was called, but not one of them equalled Clatteringshaws to my estimation.  Maybe I have not said much about the habits of the navvy.  He was mainly a generous man when in funds, and no man out of work and coming round the camp was allowed to go away hungry or penniless.  His biggest fault was that he would leave you without a moments notice, itchy feet in most cases, but, in quite a few, a fear that the Inland Revenue would catch up with them – and it went much against their principles to assist the English government in any way.

I have already mentioned Hashy Dan, but most of these old fellows had a nickname,  Slusher Tom, May Morning, Horse Ryan, Paddy the Pig, to mention but a few.  The Kerry Eagle was another bright star; every gang had it’s quota of poets, philosophers and soothsayers and many a person had a jingle attached to his person without being aware of it.  Altogether, although it was a hard life, many a time I felt that I would be poorer without it.


Jamie
(A poem concerning the building of Clatteringshaws Dam around 1933, by John [Sanny] Hunter).

Noo Jamie was my workmate ance,
When him and I were young
A quite sober chap was he
That accidentally hung.
It chanced Jamie stepped across
A proud joint off to pare
Ne’er noticed he’d both feet upon
A plank that was na there.
We watched him as he fell heid first
Doon through a closin’ space.
We saw the look of mortal fear
Upon the puir sowl’s face.
A loppit wire hangin’ there
Someone forgot to check
Fair frankled roon wee Jamie’s heid
And broke the cratur’s neck.
We got his body doon at last
An’ placed him on a skip.
The Ganger said in olden days
They’d put him ower the tip.
Half times he said in these auld days
You couldna work for smells.
So get him fixed up with a box
An’ take him doon tae Kells.
Tae see wee Jamie laid to rest
The Ganger let the gang
The contractor tae was near at han’
So he also came alang.
The priest he said a lot o’ things
Aboot corrupt and mortal clay.
When pay day came, The funeral time
Was deducted frae oor pay.
Ae nicht some three weeks later
Tae erect some steel I’m sent.
An’ tae try an’ get the crank on some
That was the wrang way bent.
Nae ither man was on the job
I was workin’ by masel’
Upon that very closing space
Where doon wee Jamie fell.
The frost was keen, the wun was snell
My han’s stuck tae the cranks
Like mony a man before and since
I cursed the firm of Shanks.
A weel kent voice says ‘Mortal man
Come roon here in the beil,
There’s days and oors and weeks tae come
In which tae fix that steel.’
It was Jamie’s voice, I kent it fine
But him I couldna see
I thocht tae drap the crankin’ rods
An’ frae the job tae flee
An’ then thinks I oor freenship ties
In life was a oor boast
So why should I fear Jamie noo
Suppose he was a ghost?
‘So Jamie lad’, I says tae him
‘Come show yerself my man
I’d like tae see yer face again
An’ shake you by the han’’
Says he, ‘I see you plain enough
I’m nearer than you think
Drum up an’ make a drap o’ tea
An’ gae me some tae drink,’
At certain time in my life time
Tae some queer  folk I’ve been host
But ne’er before that I can mind
Did I tea mak for a ghost.
The water bubbled in the drum
Tremors ran up the stick
An’ Jamie’s voice spoke close at han’
‘Ye ken I like it thick’.
I tipped the tea leaves in my han’
An’ couped them in the drum,
We navvies measure oot the tea
Juist by rile o’ thumb,
While Jamie’s voice spoke in my ear
As soft and smooth as silk
Gie her a stirring’ ance or twice
An’ pit in a pickle milk.
I dinna cairy milk I said
Ye micht ken that by noo
An’ Jamie said it matter nocht
Gie her another stew.
I set the drum upon a stane
The brew smelt nice and guid
Jaist wait I said I’ll get my bag
Wull you hae a bit o’ breid?
I got the wrappin’ o’ my piece
Tae offer him a bit
An’ spoke tae him tae fin’ the place
Where his ghostship micht weel sit.
The drum when last I’d sicht o’ it
Was lippin’ tae the brim
But noo, by Ger, withoot a doot
The blinkin’ thing was din.
Fast worker Jim, I said to him
But was it no’ too hot?
Says he it was a wee inclined
Tae tickle up ma throat
I havnae tasted stuff like that
Since the day that I left here.
By that same token, whisky, rum
Or a drap o’ Crosskeys beer.
But hoo are tricks he says tae me
Juist work and carry on
The same auld graft, the same auld style
The same auld greets and groans
You ken this life I said to him
You were at it far too long
Where hae ye been, what hae ye seen
Since the day it did you hang?
Alas he says and geen a groan
I’m no supposed tae tell
But depend it’s true I’m telling you
There’s sic a place as Hell
I passed it as I went alang
It’s the place I came tae first
An awesome place that geen tat ane
A maist almighty thirst.
I didna dally there tae lang
For it was fu’ o’ fleas and clocks
An’ beast we face reminded me
O’ auld contractor bloke’s
I seen a chap wi’ a tree tael fork
An’ hai like roosted wire
Pick up three folk by the cuff o’ the lug
An’ heave them on the fire.
I saw a mighty barrage
Wi’ a thick retaining wall
An’ a place they ca’ the grubber
Where navvies stand and fall
I saw the dismal coal seams
An’ the reed het hissing bings
An’ the special heated corner
For Poets, Peers and Kings.
I saw the burned oot slagheaps
Standin’ idle for an age
I saw a wheen Contractors
Shut like lions in a cage
I saw the sneevling agents
Travelling ganger an’ sic trash
Being forked in the furnace
An’ reduced to common ash.
I saw the gratin’ crushers
The Hadfiels is for slag
There the Baxters still the sledger
An’ the boulders up she’ll hag
I saw their gauging stations
And the revolving mixing drums
And I saw the lame and weary
In the concrete stuck for plumbs.
I saw the weaving derricks
As they lifted, jibbed and swung
I saw their travelling ganger
An’ his name’s richt on my tongue
I saw the human banework
That they used to reinforce
An’ I saw their bleed streams oosin’
From the tail of every course.
I saw their Loco railroad
With its human frames for ties
I heard the shrieks of anguish
That reached up to the skies
I seen the grim archangel
With his fork their woes forment
In the land o’ feud an’ faction
An’ e’erlasting discontent.
But I never saw nae water
It’s wi’ bleed they slock the slime
At the building of this barrage
That will gan for all time
There’s no hut or rough old skipper
Where your cares may drap away
Nor nae timey at the weeket
Tae hand tae you your pay.
I saw a man in oversize coat
Whae seemed in charge of a vat.
I saw a man that melted away
Until nothing was left but his hat.
I saw a man through some rollers
Gan, till he was crushed as flat as a flook
An’ the bleed of a lamb
That as spilled on the san’
To enter their names in a book.
So I hurried away fae these
Of woe, lest they caught me on the hop
Tho’ a fierce greybeard he after me hared
An’ shouted me to stop.
Of the other place I canna speak
Its glories left me dumb
But Sanny, me boy, it’s the real McCoy,
It’s the land of Kingdom Come.