John North: Men who made the county great

A TOAST today to John William Cameron, known to nineteenth century contemporaries as The Colonel but to subsequent generations of beer drinkers as John Willie.

In the belief that Winston Churchill was right to suppose that he had taken more out of alcohol than alcohol ever took out of him, JW Cameron is the man who has helped keep these columns flowing.

Born in Kirkby Stephen, apprenticed in Barnard Castle, legendary in Hartlepool, the great brewer and philanthropist is included in the fourth volume of the hugely enjoyable series of Durham Biographies, admirably and economically edited by Prof Gordon Batho and produced by the Durham County Local History Society.

The aim, says Prof Batho, is to produce short biographies of "men and women who have made a significant, but not necessarily high profile, contribution to the life of the region".

It is thus a little surprising to find the West Auckland serial killer Mary Ann Cotton posthumously embraced - she may be supposed to have contributed more to the region's death than to its life - and that men like Brian Clough and Stan Hollis VC are also included.

Cloughie was Boro born and bred, though at least he played for Sunderland. CSM Hollis was born in Middlesbrough, too, worked in the family fish shop, joined the Green Howards (that well known Yorkshire regiment), won the only D-Day VC and ran a pub in Liverton Mines, near Saltburn.

The immutable criterion for inclusion is that subjects must be dead; many have mining, muck and bullets, backgrounds, too.

Jim Mackintosh, a former mayor of Durham, died in March this year; the charismatic Capt Richard Annand VC, included not only in the book but on its cover, died last Christmas.

As with the first three volumes, the couplings at the beginning of each entry beg further exploration: writer and colliery mechanic (Sid Chaplin), arms salesman and novelist (John Meade Falkner), stage and film comedian and amateur astronomer (Will Hay), novelist, broadcaster and spy (Compton Mackenzie).

Norman Walton, born in Rowlands Gill in 1921 and the eldest of nine, is described as "sailor and boxer". He was also the only survivor, incredibly so, from the 765 ship's company when HMS Neptune went down off Libya in 1941.

He boxed as Patsy Dodds, fought for the northern area title, was called up again in Korea and in 2002, when 81, was waylaid by two muggers in Leeds.

Norman head butted one, punched the other in the face, beat both with his stick and regretted only that he wasn't able to chase them. He died in April this year.

It's a remarkable story, and there are very many more. Wherever the county line may be drawn, these are books which make you proud - as always - to be a Durham lad.

* Durham Biographies Volume IV is available only from Professor Batho at Miners' Hall, Red Hill, Durham DH1 4BB, price £10 plus postage. All four books are £20 the lot, plus postage - and that's this Christmas's biggest bargain.

BY virtue of being very much alive, Gordon Batho does not himself warrant inclusion. An entry in the Echo's Northern People magazine notes that he was born in London in 1929, gained his degrees there and became emeritus professor of education at Durham University in 1988.

"Emeritus" translates as retired. "I'm afraid I don't know the meaning of the word," says Prof Batho, now based amid the statues of workers' heroes at Durham miners' headquarters at Red Hill.

He was professor from 1975-88, never doubted that he'd stay in County Durham. "I'm attracted by the independent nature of the people," he says.

"I've had a wonderful reception at the Miners' Hall; we get on famously and they've been very generous to me."

Still involved in all manner of other things, he was obliged to take a break last year when a series of nine operations resulted in the loss of all his toes. "My wife says that I've managed to keep my energy, but she's not sure it's an advantage for everyone," he says.

"The surgeon said that a man 20 years my junior might have curled up in the foetal position and died, but I'm still very happy not to be eligible for the book."

Research for volume five is already under way; none of us wants to be included just yet.

FOUR down, umpteen still to go, Prof Batho's cumulative index includes the Durham Ox - Red Alligator, deceased, may only be a stride behind - Charles Dickens and Timothy Hackworth. Mark Sheridan isn't yet listed, but should be worth a note quite soon.

Born as Frederick Shaw in Hendon, Sunderland, Sheridan was a music hall singer who had three huge "hits" - Here We Are Again, Who Were You With Last Night and I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside, sung while wearing battered top hat, elderly frock coat and bell bottomed trousers.

"It was something more than singing a good rousing song," wrote a contemporary critic. "He became a man who really did like to be beside the seaside.

"As he strode across the stage, singing lustily in his Tyneside (?) voice and slapping the back cloth with his stick, he was a man full of fresh air and vigour and health, striding along the promenade."

Not everyone agreed. The Glasgow Coliseum audience in early 1918 was restless, the following morning paper's lukewarm.

That afternoon two men found his body, shot through the head. Though suicide was at once assumed, it was later suggested - perhaps remembering that a Sunderland lad would be well used to difficult audiences - that he could have been killed by those who resented his success.

The story is told in another new book, British Music Hall by Richard Anthony Baker (Sutton, £20). "The theory," Baker concludes, "is fanciful."

LAST week's piece on Ivan Churm, Britain's last conscript, provoked National Service memories from opposite sides of the parade ground.

Stan Wilson, Redcar lad now in Thirsk, did his two years despite a detached retina in the left eye. Though he'd never previously been beyond Scarborough, he thoroughly enjoyed the army game.

"The sergeant taught me discipline, something I never forgot when I became a teacher. I went in a boy and came out a man."

His basic training was with the Welsh Regiment. Very much later he was Liberal parliamentary candidate in Caerphilly. "I might just have mentioned it," he says.

Stan Coates, conversely, hated his National Service - not least because of the pay difference between regular soldiers and conscripts.

"I found myself in the Malayan conflict, a war zone, with other lads who hadn't volunteered to go. As a conscripted 18-year-old sergeant, I was paid less, dodging bullets in the Far East, than a regular private soldier swanning about in places like Aldershot or Catterick."

Stan, 74, is now in Guisborough. In the early 1950s he was set to become the first member of his family to go to university. It also meant that his degree, and earnings potential, were put back two years. "For a family not exactly rolling in money, it was a totally unnecessary burden."

WE also wondered last week about the Methodist custom of stripping the silver tree and, more briefly, about stripping the willow, an old dance. A gentleman from Darlington Gaelic Society has now dropped in their list of activities - including ceilidhs, with strip the willow, twice a year. Ever in step, the column dances on next week.