I had now left school (thank goodness) and wondered to myself what I was going to do to help my mother with a little money.

At about this time it came to pass that the old vicar of 90 years or more had passed away and his place was taken by a young vicar whose name was the Rev. Marsden.

He took a sincere liking to me. This, my mother told me, was because I was very much like a dear friend he had lost at sea. The Rev Marsden was, before he came to our village, I found out was a Naval Chaplain.

Thomas Wedge School, Church Road, Saughall as it looks today.

After leaving school I used to help the vicar at his large house in the village. Cleaning his car (which was the only one in those days in the village) looking after his hens and garden.

He was very kind to me, and the maid used to give me tea and cakes in the kitchen. I was never allowed to go into any other part of the house.

I had now reached the age of 15 and this was the start in life I was waiting for. I got a job on the Railway at the Village Station as a Boy Porter.

To get a job of any kind in those days was an achievement, but to get a job on the Railways, which they said was a job for life, was something you dreamed of.

The Railway required two characters, one from the vicar, and one from the School Master. While I never did see what the vicar and School Master said about me in those two letters, the Village Station Master did tell me that what they had said was a credit to me.

I shall in my next chapter tell you of my life between the age of 15 and 20 years.

In those days I should tell you that nearly everybody and everything went by rail. Buses and cars were only just beginning to play their part in our lives. And even a village station was a very busy place.

I reported to the Station Master (a Mr. Barlow) one Monday morning. My Mother had bought me a new pair of shoes for the occasion (in those days it was a common sight to walk about with your toe ends out and your shirt hanging out).

Saughall Station. From the book, "Saughall: A Social History," by Anne Stuart.

Mr. Barlow looked me over. "You look a smart lad," he said.

The village Station Master played a big part in the life of the village and was a very important man. He took me into his Station Masters office, which was all spick and span.

"Sit down," he said, "I want to talk to you."

"You have not got a father to keep you in hand have you?"

"No Sir," I said.

"Well I shall do that. I have been having a talk to your mother."

And during the years that followed he certainly kept his word.

I was now growing up and the next few years were very interesting. My job as a boy porter at the Village station at Saughall covered all sorts of duties.

Other staff employed was a signalman, who as you probably know, worked in the signalbox to control the running of trains. Also employed was a clerk who did all the clerical work.

The signalman, a Mr. Hallows, was a jolly fellow who was always getting me into hot water with the Station Master. I always remember this gentleman was always reading Blood and Thunder books. He was a big strong fellow, but he had a wonderful sense of humour.

Even though I was working and earning 11/6 per week, I was still very interested in sport and spent all my spare time with my pals playing football or cricket.

It was about this time when the second tragedy in the life of our family happened.

We were playing cricket, myself, my brother Harold, and the lads of the village. Harold was wicket keeper.

The lad who was batting, a chum of mine who's name it would not be right to mention. He swung his bat round striking my brother on the head. Harold fell to the ground. I ran across from where I was fielding.

He lay there motionless. I along with my pals were stunned. We had not seen anything like this happen before.

He was taken to our little house further up the village. I cannot recollect how he was taken there. My dear mother was grief stricken.

He lay unconscious for three days down stairs on the sofa. He peacefully passed away without a word from his lips.

As young as I was, 15 years old, this affected me very much. He was a dear brother to me.

When he was buried the whole village turned out (he was buried with our dear father in the village churchyard).

Our poor mother. Why should these things happen to such a good and simple human being, who had worked so hard to bring us up, and just when the tide was turning a little and we were not so poor.

This second tragedy in our family life affected my mother more than I can explain in print. For a long time she was a heartbroken, grief stricken woman.

My brother Harold's clothes was hung behind the bedroom door for such a long time. Our mother would not let us move them.

She even used to put an apple or orange in his jacket pocket. "He is still here," she used to say, "he will come get them."

I was now the youngest child and a great affection grew between my mother and myself.

I have not up to now written anything about my brother Eric and sister Ida who were now growing up, Eric being about 18 and Ida 14. I shall try in this chapter to tell you of our family life together, of my mother, brother and sister until I reached the age of 20. I shall not mention my job on the railway in this period. I hope to write a chapter about this later.

My sister Ida was a very attractive young lady. She was also a very good singer and quite often she would sing the solo part in various events which used to take place. My sister and myself had a great affection for each other. I regret to say that I couldn't say the same about my brother Eric. He made my mother's life hell.

He took to drinking at a very early age. We used to dread him coming home from the pub.

While in fairness to him, I could never remember him striking my mother, it was the things he used to say, not only to my mother, but to Ida and myself. Many a time I have come home to find my mother crying. She used to say "What have I done to deserve this? Why is he like this? Whatever will happen to him?"

My brother Eric also had a good side of his make-up. When he was not drunk he could be very likeable. He was also very generous as you will read later.

There seemed to be two groups of lads of the village. The older ones of my brother Eric's age and the younger ones of my age. There has always been rivalry between us and plenty of fights took place and the younger gang didn't always lose.

One very interesting battle took place one day. A wall used to divide one group from another. We picked up grass sods* to throw at each other. (*Grass sods - containing grass and the roots, also quite a lot of earth and bits of stones, etc, which used to cling to it). It was a case of putting your head over the wall and seeing if the other gang could hit you with this nasty grass sod.

This day my brother Eric put his head above the wall and Wham! what a shot, I got him full in the face. This turned out to be quite a rather serious matter. His face was cut and a lot of the earth had gone into his eyes.

I was in trouble. I thought it's a cert our Eric would kill me when he was better, but he took it all in good part.

The saying "blood is thicker than water" in my opinion is very true. Quite a number of times, if I was getting the worst of a fight, our Eric would come in and finish off. He was really tough.

Another trick we used to play, where two houses with doors near to each other, we used to tie them together with string and knock on both doors and hide around the corner and watch the performance when they are both trying to open the door at the same time.

My Christmas present from my mother was always a big rubber ball which she used to buy for me because I was so mad about football. I soon wore out a pair of shoes.

I also was taking quite an interest in girls now and dancing in the village hall. I used to get on very well with the young ladies. One young lady of the village was very keen on me and would follow me all over. I couldn't say I felt the same about her. She was a really good dancer and the boys of the village was all keen to dance with her, but they had to ask me first.

Stan's grandmother, Edith Dodd. Year unknown.

My brother Eric was still continuing his beer drinking habits, and some of his pals were as bad as him. I remember one day in the house there was a large jar of pickled onions. One of his pals bet him a penny he couldn't eat the full jar of onions. This he did and for another penny he drank the vinegar and wasn't even sick.

I must be fair to my brother and say he also had his funny side. He had some very good points.

My sister Ida was now about 18 years old. (The following is crossed out - "was a very attractive girl" - DM)

The next village to ours was a place called Sealand. This place had a big aerodrome.

In those days there was no such thing as a parachute and if the aeroplane went wrong it was a case of the pilot jumping out and falling to his death, or staying in the plane hoping he would stand a better chance of survival. These planes were crashing quite regular and it stands out in my memory of seeing a human being suddenly leave the plane and crash to his death. We always used to go to these crashed planes and get parts for souvenirs.

I always remember a serious outbreak of foot and mouth disease. There were a lot of farms in the village and all the cattle in every farm was destroyed through this terrible disease. They used to dig a big hole then shoot the cattle. This included cows, sheep, pigs or any other animal on the farm. I cannot remember if this applied to domestic animals such as a cat and dog. Then they would burn them. I remember the smoke and stench from these animals blowing across the village. This lasted for about two weeks.

As I said in my previous chapter, my sister Ida was a very attractive girl. To her sorrow, and my mother's as you will hear, she fell in love with an airman from the aerodrome at Sealand. This young boy came from London. He was a likeable chap but like all Cockneys was very bombastic.

My mother told me Ida was having a baby and she would be getting married. I cannot remember when or where she got married.

I remember one winter morning, it must have been around 4 am, when my mother got me up. You had better go and fetch the nurse. My sister had a little girl, she named her Joyce. Her husband, his name was Bernard, was not there. He had gone home to see his mother in London. My sister Ida told me she thought he had another woman in London.

He returned after the event and I could see he didn't show very much interest in his baby daughter.

He used to live at the aerodrome camp at Sealand, and my sister, along with my mother, brother and myself lived in our one up one down little house. How we did it I don't know.

One Sunday morning Ida's husband (Bernard) was at home with us. For some reason he struck my sister Ida. This was too much for our Eric to see his sister hit. A terrific fight took place in our cobbled yard between my brother Eric and Ida's husband Bernard. It took four grown men to get our Eric off Bernard. In time he would have killed him.

This taught this Cockney fellow a lesson he never forgot. We might be country yokels, but we could certainly stand up for ourselves. Eric and Bernard after that seemed to get on very well together.

Bernard, my brother-in-law, kept having trips to London, to see his mother he used to say, but even I could notice that things weren't as they should be between him and my sister.

Life still carried on in the village of Saughall. My brother Eric still drinking heavily, and was constantly getting into fights. My mother was still working very hard. My brother Eric would occasionally go up to the school at night to stoke the boiler fire up.

It was about this time that my sister expected her second child, a daughter who she named Daphne. It was me again who was got up by my mother in the early hours to fetch the District Nurse.

We saw less and less of her husband Bernard, who had now left the local aerodrome and was stationed in the London area. The outcome of this was he had another woman in London and had no further interest in my sister or her children. This was very bad on my mother and sister and the whole family. I remember my sister applying for a poor woman's divorce. This cost £5, which in those days was a fortune. We scraped it together somehow.

My sister was now left with two young children to bring up. Our dear mother never grumbled. She carried on doing the best to keep us all together.

I must say here that the nice side of our brother Eric was the way he used to look after the two children.

He would very often bring some new clothes for them from Chester or take them out for the day. The youngest child, Daphne, used to worship him and many a time when he was drunk, she could get him to see sense.

I think at this time that our Eric had a fairly sound job (painting).

I was now approaching the age of 20 years and in the next chapter I shall tell you of the event which happened which changed my life, of which I thank God.

I was just 20 years old and working and enjoying my life as a boy porter at Saughall Station. Mr. Barlow the Station Master sent for me. "Sit down Stanley," he said.

His face was a little stern. "Whatever was he going to say to me," I thought.

"You are 20 years old now Stanley aren't you?" I said, "Yes sir, I am."

He opened a drawer and placed in front of him a letter. "You are now above the age for a lad porter, which means you will have to leave this Station."

I was spellbound by his remark. Surely this will mean the sack for me.

"Don't look so worried," he said, "it's not as bad as that." I waited while he read the letter to himself.

"They are offering you a job as a carriage cleaner at Sheffield," he said, "at £2 a week." "You must understand that if you don't accept it you will lose your job on the railway."

"Sheffield," I said, "where is that?"

"It's a long way and you will have to go into lodging and you will have to take care of yourself. Sheffield is a large city."

I had never been so far away in my life before. The farest I had been was a Sunday School trip to New Brighton.

I walked home after my time of duty was finished. I could not believe what Mr. Barlow the Station Master had said to me was true.

I sat down to my tea. "Mother," I said, "I've got to leave home. They want to send me to Sheffield to work."

My dear mothers face. "They want to what?" she said.

I didn't know how to tell her properly, but at last she realised it was true what I was saying.

"I shan't let you go, we will manage somehow." But at the bottom of my own heart I knew I must accept this, although I never said this to my mother.

Although I was now 20, I was still the baby of the family and was my mother's boy. She shed many silent tears over this going away.

My brother Eric didn't seem to take much interest in this, although he might have done inwardly. My sister Ida, who was always a very dear sister to me, was upset about this, but knew like myself I must take this new venture in my life.

I informed Mr. Barlow, the Station Master, that I would go to Sheffield to this new job offered to me.

"Sit down Stanley, I have a little bit of advice to give you," he said. "You are leaving home for the first time. You are going amongst people you have never seen before. You are going to work in a city which is one of the worst in the country for crime."

I should mention that Sheffield at that time was noted for its gangs who used to attack people with razors even if you was walking along a street and had nothing at all to do with anyone else. They were known as "Razor Gangs".

"My advice to you Stanley is this. Look after yourself. Don't get mixed up with these people. Always keep yourself clean. 'Soap and water is very cheap.' Always use your manners, and be prepared to take advice, and don't forget to write home regular to your mother."

"Thankyou sir," I said, "I shall remember what you said to me."

MEMOIRS OF A RAILWAYMAN by STANLEY ROWE MERCER, edited by DAVID McCLELLAND. Copyright © 1996-2006 by David McClelland. All rights reserved. No part of Memoirs of a Railwayman may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsover without prior written permission. For information contact Dave@McClellandMedia.com

My thanks to Cameron Bales, Hank Stinson and Rose Santanasamy for assistance with scanned images.

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Created December 8, 1996. Last update Feb 25, 2006