Booted and Suited. Chris Brown
treatise on the attributes of a blue window-pane-check trim-fit Brutus Gold shirt. His classmates no doubt wrote of train drivers, nurses and the astronaut heroes of that era.
Personally at the age of 13, I longed to emulate the young skinhead who worked on the paper-sack wagon that came down our street. I thought Mervyn from Lawrence Weston had the best job in the world, standing atop the caged lorry, stomping down the sacks that were chucked up to him by his colleagues, stripped to the waist with his braces hanging down, his oversized bovver boots doing the business with extreme efficiency. If Richard Allen’s Joe Hawkins had lived in Bristol and not the East End of London, he would have been called Mervyn and instead of being a coalman he would have worked on the paper-sack lorry. Mervyn was my hero.
Apart from setting my sights on those paper sacks, I also longed for a pair of Monkey boots, as did Pat Walsh, who recalled travelling to Camden in North London with his mum to get his as they couldn’t be found on the streets of Bristol. Brutus Gold shirts and Monkey boots…we were easily pleased in those days.
Dancin’, Sounds and the Dear Old ‘Loccy’
Brothers often seem to be at the heart of trouble, whether on the mean streets of Bristol or the meaner ones of the Krays’ East London manor. Sibling rivalry, as well as a deep bonding, meant that it was inevitable, if you had a row with one, you invariably had a row with two. The previously mentioned Thornes, Walshes, Pascoes and Stones were notorious back then. One of these brothers, Andy Stone, lived in my neck of the woods, Brentry, the smaller, rougher council estate next to Henbury (or Henburberry as it’s now known). He sent me his recollections of a typical weekend in 1969. In his own inimitable style, he remembers those days like they were yesterday:
‘Friday night. Travelled over to The Bell pub in Stapleton to meet up with the Pickerings (Lee and the twins John and Dave), Ginger Evans, Twiggy and others. Had a few beers and made our way to The Horse and Groom. Met up with the rest of the lads, my brother Paul, Brian Coombs, Mike Thorne, Martin and Pat Walsh, Lloyd, Herbie and others (too many names to mention). After a few more beers decided we would go to The Way Inn. A few guys outside The Pineapple started shouting abuse at us… some of our group walked over to them and asked them to be quiet. SORTED. Arrived at The Way Inn, barman gave us six-for-one before two-for-one was invented. Soon it was closing time so walked to the Centre and met up with my girlfriend (now my wife Debbie) who had been out with her mates.
‘The Centre was packed when a few of our friends from across the Bristol Channel started scrapping with a few of the lads. I think their coach had to stop at the B.R.I [Bristol Royal Infirmary]. for a few running repairs before they got home. Arrived at the Never and ordered Viennese steak, chips and peas for Deb and me (did I know how to treat a girl!!). Saw Tony Simms, asked him if I could borrow his minibus to take Deb and her mates home. On the way back to town saw Colin Moore – somebody had attacked him with a metal comb. Drove around for a while but could not find people who did it. Got back home about 2am.
‘Saturday night. The BIG night out – been waiting for this all week. Pick up Debbie from her house, borrow her dad’s car and drove to The Bell, meet up with the Pickerings and the rest of the lads from that side of town and their girlfriends. Travelled to The Horse and Groom and met up with the rest of the lads. Ended up in the Top Rank, most did not pay to get in as somebody had opened the emergency door by the Never café. Most of the night was spent drinking and dancing. Most of us blokes thought we were great dancers but I don’t think the girls did.
“At the end of the night somebody said there was a party at a house on the outskirts of Whitchurch so we all got in cars, scooters and fruit lorry. When we got there we were greeted by a guy giving out free cigs and cigars. There was a table about ten feet long filled with booze situated by the swimming pool. We thought we were dreaming, somebody said the guy’s parents had won the football pools. We were having a great time when somebody (we did not know) threw one of our girlfriends in the pool. All hell broke loose – we were hitting blokes all over the place. End of what could have been a great party. Got back home about 6am.
‘Sunday. Arranged to meet Debbie and her mates in Weston-super-Mare in the afternoon. My brother Paul and me were picked up at our house by Brian Coombs in his Consul Convertible (pre-MOTs). We thought we were the bollocks with the roof down. Halfway up Falcondale Road the clutch was slipping so Paul, Ossie Hardwick and myself ended up pushing the car to the top of the hill. How we got to WSM I do not know.
“Got to Weston at last, found out a few of the lads had a bit a trouble in a bar could The Doll’s House, so we met up with the Pickerings, Walshes, Thorney etc. and walked around to the club. The Weston lads did not realise only two of them could get out of the club door at one time, so we waited outside and baited them. As they came out, they were dealt with. Meanwhile, Debbie had managed to get thrown in the boating pool and Lloyd, forever the gentleman, let her have his jumper. I do not know to this day if he ever got it back. Because of the trouble in Weston that day the police closed all roads out of Weston, but we found a way out! The toll road – what a cheap price two bob. Ended up back in Bristol in the Horse and Groom. Back to work on Monday. Roll on next Friday.’
As an afterthought, Andy added, ‘I know we have all moved on since those days, but they were brilliant. As the man said, “Long gone, but not forgotten.”’
Another lad who frequented the Never back in the day was ‘Dobbsy’ Sellwood who, at the time, lived in Knowle. As in Pat Walsh’s recollections, he also travelled to London, not just for his footwear but also for the clothing. As well as being a terror on the terraces, Dobbsy was known for his sartorial style and, unlike some of the others I was to interview, he quite clearly remembered the first time he spotted the boot boys: ‘1968 in the Croydon area of South London.’
Dobbsy had relatives there and, as well as following Bristol Rovers (as did Paddy Walsh), he also had an allegiance to Crystal Palace. He continued, ‘They would have been Palace and Millwall fans. I was 15 years old and fell for the clothes, the reggae, the gorgeous skinhead girls and the excitement of the whole scene. I became one of the Tote End Boot Boys.’
In common with all the other lads that I had spoken to, Dobbsy confirmed that their enemy of choice was the greaser, but conversely on the Rovers’ terraces, unlike at Ashton Gate, their differences were put aside for the honour of the club, something which was quite evident in the incident at the Maritas café. ‘We hated greasers, although, funnily enough, a lot of our fans were greasers. We fought with other skins at football – they used to chant “soap and water” at the greasers because they were so filthy, but it still caused offence to us, so we stuck together with the greasers for the cause.’
Dobbsy was an archetypal, stereotypical skinhead, but, whereas most of the Never boys wouldn’t be seen dead fraternising with the greasers, he didn’t seem to have a problem with it. He also frequented Cora’s café on Colston Avenue and the well-known Rovers’ café and haunt of the greasers, the Monte Carlo on Stapleton Road. ‘Full of ’em but they were Tote Enders,’ he recalls.
As well as remembering where he first laid eyes on the early skinheads, he quite clearly recalled where he bought his clothing and footwear. He even reckoned he was one of the first Bristolians to wear Doc Martens. ‘I bought them in Jacobs in Old Market for about £2 15s (£2.75) in 1969.’ He also recalled buying his first Ben Sherman, a yellow one, on the King’s Road in London for about £2 10s (£2.50) and shrink-to-fit Levi’s for £3. ‘You had to sit in the bath for hours to get them to fit,’ Dobbsy added.
I asked him if he still had any items of clothing from back then. ‘No, but I still wear similar clothing, like button-down shirts, Levi’s – but full-length now, not short. A smart pair of “Weejun” loafers [hand-made, all-leather slip-on shoes] – classic look, still instantly recognisable