When it comes to building ships a shipwright is a very important person. He strikes the very first centre-line, lines up the keel, sets the stern frame, sets the stem bar and ensures that the bulkheads and frames are at right angles to the base - because the ship is actually built on the berth where the ground slopes towards the river to allow a slipway to be put in place.
The ship is built on raised timber blocks to allow other trades such as the platers, welders, riveters, caulkers and painters to work under the ship. But one of the most important jobs a shipwright is called upon to do is to launch the ship in to the water. For this he has to ensure that the tide is just right. Too little water and the ship will slide down the ways and drop off the end of the berth - too much water and the ship will become buoyant before the trailing end of the ship leaves the berth. Both situations cause damage. Obviously then the 'launch ceremony' is determined by the tide.
On one particular launch day our shipwright hero, a man called Johnson, was working under the ship knocking out the blocks (this lowers the ship on to the slipways).
The launch party were on the ceremonial platform. The lady sponsor who was going to name and christen the ship was already holding in her hand the bottle of champagne which was to be smashed against the fore end of the ship.
The lady receives a beautiful present for doing this and she is also presented with the bunting and silks which are wrapped around the bottle of champagne.
This bottle was hung by a lanyard connected to the forecastle deck, it was to be released as the ship moved off so that the bunting could be retrieved.
The launch time arrived - the lady named the ship - she swung the bottle at the ship, but low and behold, it didn't break.
The workman 'standing by' up on the fo'c'sle released the lanyard (he couldn't see that the bottle hadn't broken).
The bottle, now released, crashed to the bottom of the berth and luckily didn't break.
Now it is always believed by the sailors and the owners that a ship which is not properly christened will be a very unlucky ship.
Our shipwright Mr Johnson knew all about this superstition so he reacted quickly, he picked up the bottle, ran down the berth after the ship which was now gathering speed, flung the bottle as hard as he could - success!!. The bottle shattered and the champagne contents were splashed all over the bow. The ship was christened. This had been a very brave thing to do because of the risk of personal injury, which could have been caused by flying blocks, wires or the drag chains.
Mr Johnson was invited up on to the launch platform to meet the shipowners and directors, but above all, the lady sponsor whose day had been saved.
They were all proud to shake the hand of - "A shipwright with bottle".

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Thinking On Thoughts
June 2005 by Val Atkinson
A friend once took students for a walk then asked them to write an account of the event. None were the same or even remotely similar.
As a teacher my friend had watched how they walked, their awareness of surroundings, and their interaction with walking companions.
STUDENTS WROTE OF:
The weather and a visual description of the journey
Group camaraderie
Memories evoked while walking down familiar streets
Beauties of park and wild life
Traffic problems
Sky colour/cloud formation
EVERYONE LEARNED THAT:
People see things through their own eyes
Though all experience the same physical journey, individual awareness and thoughts are unique
Many children experienced a childhood in the North East England of the 1950’s, so if you’re looking for something profound, press ‘delete’. If you’re in the mood for nostalgia, dreams, memories and unique thoughts, read on.
In the 1950’s every Dad worked in the shipyards. All Dads had jobs and all Mams stayed at home. Seven days work a week meant £8 and a ‘flat’ week was £3.
7AM: GREAT EXODUS’ when Doors opened and slammed as workers hurried to the yard gates
7.30AM: HOOTERS announced the start of work.
7.40AM: GATES LOCKED: Late arrivals lost half a day’s pay and had to be let in by the gate man. Everyone got up by the hooters. Each shipyard had its own, and the noise was deafening even from a distance. The men wore a ‘uniform’ of leftovers from the war: army beret and greatcoat. All carried haversacks, and billy cans to heat tea.
12 NOON: THE GREAT HOMECOMING: To a man they came home No one had packed lunches in those days. Packed lunches were what we ate on the beach in the Summer.
We always had dessert, which was often custard, so that for years I thought all desserts were called ‘custard’ even when they were rice pudding, semolina, spotted dick or syrup sponge.
We were never asked what we wanted for dinner. It was dished up and eaten (no nonsense) even if we didn’t like it. Likes and dislikes didn’t influence menus.
Mam mashed turnip in with potatoes, which I hated, but that was the weekly cross I had to bear, and bear it I did (every Tuesday if I remember rightly!).
After dinner we positioned ourselves strategically on the doorstep to get a penny when Dad climbed over us to be away before the 1pm hooter.
We went to see ships launched at Readhead’s where Dad had worked since his 1946 demob. I thought he was in charge of the whole thing the same as at home. The launches were great celebrations with crowds there to cheer the ship away, and we waved at tiny figures high up on the deck, not knowing which one was Dad, but pretending we did.
One launch I remember well was the ‘Apollon’ in 1957. She was huge and could be seen way above houses and buildings as we walked down Reed Street to the yard.
A ‘half shift’ overtime meant one of us would go to the shop for a loaf from the noon baking. We waited as the bread came out, and brought it home wrapped in tissue paper.
Mam cut thick slices and put boiled egg in straight away so the hot egg mingled with the bread, and melted the butter the way Dad liked it. He always had the same sandwiches for his half shift, and came home after our bedtime.
Sometimes he brought off cuts of wood for the fire (very illegal, but most men did it, and found ways to get past the gate men who watched the departing workers).
There was quite a contraband traffic of all sorts of this and that, but Dad only brought wood. The time I leaned on the fireguard (which wasn’t there) is a ‘burning’ memory of splintering wood, sparks, and scorched backside.
He used leather patches to repair our shoes, and when he finished we wriggled our feet to check no nails were sticking up. Sometimes they came through later: agonising!
1950’s parents never had baths because they were never dirty!
We bathed once a week (Whether we needed it or not!) in a tin contraption that hung on the back door. Water was heated on the gas stove in a huge iron bucket, and all of us got in together with our knees to our chins. We were washed and dried one at a time, so every once in a while we had a turn at stretching out for a precious five minutes.
Mam washed on Monday using water heated in the ‘bath’ bucket. She soaked the clothes then rubbed them up and down on the ridged porcelain sink, squeezed them out by hand, and took them to the cellar where there was a huge ‘mangle’.
She ‘mangled’ them (put them through the wringer) then hung them in the back yard to dry. The occasion I jammed my finger in the mangle while feeding the sheets through is a separate (bloody/ squashy) painful episode.
We were lucky to have a large back yard. Some families had to hang washing in the back lane and take it down every time the bin men, coal men, or rag men shouted.
I HAVE A THOUSAND THINGS TO SAY.
WHY DO I WANT TO SAY THEM?
BECAUSE:
Quiet ordinary tales become extraordinary when viewed from the distance of years.
No moment is ordinary, they’re all special
I want you to remember your uncomplicated past, glory in it, and write it down as your ‘never ending story’, your eternal record.
No one in this world is quite like you, and your nostalgia is unique.
AND PERHAPS MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL:
Family history is anecdotes and nostalgia that generate facts and eventually crystallise in a desire to discover the past.
This article is copyrighted by BA Research Services Ltd. and is used with permission of the copyright owners.
Link to the article source;-
http://www.britishancestors.com/newsletter/archive/view.php?action=view&id=27

The Shipyard Community
A whole community of Readheads workers lived within walking distance of the yard in row upon row of rented terraced houses most of which consisted of an upstairs and a downstairs flat.
In 1947 I was born in a downstairs flat in South Eldon Street which was close to the yard, and later we moved to a downstairs flat in nearby South Palmerston Street. I can remember that it consisted of a living room, one bedroom and a scullery with a sink and cold tap. At the rear was a shared yard with a flush toilet situated in a draughty out-house and next to it the coalhouse. I can also remember lying in bed at night and hearing mice scurrying across the canvas floor. The reason why so many people kept a cat I suppose.
Most of the yard workers would have lived in similar housing. The sound of the yard whistle could be heard clearly every day at start and finish times and at break times....Ed.

The following reminiscences are from a website 'lineone' and submitted by Alex Patterson , a former Shields lad now living in Montreal, Canada. In it he gives an idea of what it was like around the Readheads area when he was a child;-
"In the photo with Readheads' offices and the bridge between the two, you can see the sign for 'Cookson's' which was at the corner of Anderson Street. I lived in the house next door to the bar, until I was two years old, in a "single-enner", one room which was the living room, bedroom, kitchen. The toilet was one of four further up the street, we had no water in the house, and got that from a tap at the toilet. My first memory is of a ship being launched. All I remember is the rusty dust and the mass of this huge thing moving and the noise of the chains dragging through the yard and the smell of tallow and rust. It really made an impression on me...I would be barely three. Across Anderson Street from Cookson's was Charlton's the butcher, where I would do odd jobs later in life, and next door to that was Fittes's restaurant, that served sandwiches and tea-cakes and other things to the shipyard workers, who didn't go into the pub. Across the back lane from Fittes's' was a tenement building that fronted on Smith Street next to Robson's the boat-builders, where I used to do sweeping up for free, just to have a look at the lifeboats in progress. No wonder I became a Naval Architect. I can still smell the sawdust and wood shavings and remember how clean the wood looked after it had been dressed and planed.
Going back to the Readhead's photo the building at the centre right in the background was the Neptune Hotel, where my Mum worked as a barmaid, until she went into nursing. The landlords there were Billy and Evelyn Lamb, two really nice people. Upstairs to the pub was an elegant reception room which was panelled in mahogany and all of the cabinetry in both the bar and the reception room was custom built to fit the curve of the building as it rounded onto Commercial Road. It was a beautiful building.

Bill Just - Memories;-

I worked there as a maintenance Electrician from 1961 approx, till 1972.working all over the shipbuilding yard, and a few years on the welding plant, with Jimmy Todd, Trevor Musgrove, Ray Hewittson, Railton Moore, Ian McCann, Bob Spitiri, Ronniw Billson, Ronnie Winter, Jimmy Bass, To name just a few, my memories are of a real family run business, lots of Fathers and sons, working there ,and great camirady as well, I well remember the Electricians Shop ,in the Engine Works, and of Burt Robinson Foreman, and Ronnie Mitchell Chargehand, I always say i really enjoyed working there , mind you not a lot of money was ever paid as wages there ,My first ships i can remember where the two Cunard ships, Media, and Saxonia. Any one can contact me any time if they wish to do so Regards Bill Just

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This memory is from Chris Ball ;-

My name is Chris Ball and I served my time at Readheads as a fitter/turner. I was employed in the ship repair side at West Docks from 1973 until 1977. The first year of our apprenticeships was spent at Swan Hunter's training centre at Walker and the final 3 years in the "yard".

Tommy Dent and Ken Goodal were our foremen, with Jack Lovely, Ray ?? and Charlie Raine as the chargehands.

I remember very well my first day in the yard. I was assigned to a fitter named Joe Henley and we were to work on the "David Marley" that was docked in Number 1 dock. I introduced myself to Joe and he told me to sit down on the stack of wood at the end of the dock. We sat in silence for almost an hour before I asked were we not going to do any work. Joe told me that we couldn't go onboard the ship as the nightshift had been filling the after peak, ready for undocking later that day, and the drain valve into the engine room had been left open. The engine room had been flooded and the dirty bilge water had flooded the main engine's crankcase! Typical my first day at work and we manage to sink a ship in a dry dock!

Another time as myself and a turner, Bobby Hirst, walked onboard one of the ships, Bobby shouted to one of the blacksmiths, "How's it going Jackie?". To which Jackie replied, " Ah Bob man I'm on handrails you know? Technical stuff - you've got to be within an inch you know!". It was so funny and typical of the humour throughout the yard.

I have very fond memories of my time at Readheads and all the people there that have helped me to become who I am today.

The 'David Marley' passing Readhead's Dock (c1965)

This memory is from Malcolm Hodgson ;-
Just been on to your Readhead website for the first time and found it really interesting. I served my time there as a sheet metal worker from 1971 learning the trade with Alan Cummings, Des Ratcliffe, Joe Norman, Tony
Grimes and Brian Wells. Our shop was located in the canteen yard. My dad worked there for many a year as the water tank ballast man, his name was Tommy Hodgson, but his shipyard name was "Tommy Water Pipe". My early memories as a child was my dad taking me to launch day and having a bacon sarnie is his cabin which was situated under the crane tracks. Any links to Readhead sites would be grateful and if you require any further info just drop me a line.

I too spent my first year at the Swan Hunter training school in Walker and I was "assigned" to finish my apprenticeship at Readheads which was great as I just lived up the bank in Eglesfield Road. I was duly given (paid from wage deductions) my tool box and tools required to learn my trade and told to report at Readheads at 7-30 on the Monday. Being very small for my age at 16 I could hardly carry my tool box, and as was the custom I would walk down Bertram Street to the yard and with my father working there hoped he would
help me carry the tools. However, my dad along with all the other labourers were beginning a strike that day so a friend of dad's, Maggie Gray, a shipwright? carried my tool box to work for me. My first day did not last too long however, because of the strike no safety work could be carried out and the shipyard was closed at 12-00 on my first day.

I left school on the summer of  1963 and started in the dry docks end of John Readheads 4 weeks later. I met with the other ‘new starters’ in the office block but was quickly escorted away down to the general store. Back then you were lucky to get an introduction from a family member or friend this entitled you to a few months to prove yourself to one of the trades foremen in order to get an apprenticeship

The store duties mainly involved supplying rivets and bolts to the riveting squads, you could also earn a little pocket money by getting their orders and delivering them to the ship as they were all on piecework. I remember being asked by one riveter to deliver him a 1cwt bag of staging bolts to his work place down in the ships hold, so I bagged them up and carried them over to the ship. At only 15yrs old 1 cwt is quite heavy so when I got them up on deck and saw the ladder into the hold I thought no thanks I will just give him a shout and drop the bag down. So with a hearty shout of ‘below’ over they went than back to the store and await my reward. About an hour later he stormed into the store, picked me up and stuffed me into one of the spare rivet boxes, what I hadn't known was if you don’t unscrew all the nuts to the end of the bolt thread and throw them down the hold they all knock together and spoil the thread, he must have tried halve the bag before he came looking for me. However the most important job was to look after the foremen (remembering that needed apprenticeship). After lunch they all had a habit of going through the general store and over the road to the pub. They all drank ‘halves’ as this was just enough to quaff quickly when yours truly came to warn them that the yard manager was on the prowl

I must have done a reasonable job of warning the foremen as the foreman shipwright gave me an apprenticeship. He started me in the sawmill working with Billy Richardson and Stan Maughn. Billy was the sawyer and worked the large circular saw and drilling machines. We had to cut up large old timbers for firewood, trouble was there were lots of 6in nails in them and it took to much time to get them all out so we didn’t bother, the saw blade would then create sparks if we hit one, this would then ignite the sawdust pit which I had to jump in and shovel all the burning bits out. Xmas was a great time in the sawmill as all the logs would then be put onto an open wagon and we would go out and distribute them to the retired foremen as xmas logs. Every day Billy’s wife would make egg and bacon stottycake sandwhiches for us, they would be placed in a purpose made metal lined wooden box which was bolted onto a radiator to keep them warm for our 9 o'clock break .. magic

I then worked a couple of years in the dry docks doing various work and learning to use my tools. To get my tools I was taken by the foreman to the main tool shop in south shields and picked out what was probably £50 worth and all paid for by John Readheads. When we got back to the yard I was told to go and see Stan and he will show you how to make a box for them, its still in my garage and so are most of the tools. The two other shipwright apprentices at that time were Norman Swalwell and Billy Roberts.

I must have done well in the dry docks because I was asked to go into the shipyard mold loft to continue my apprenticeship. I really enjoyed this side especially marking off all the offsets from the draughtsmen into full size on the floor then running battens to fair the waterlines and buttocks and feeding the corrected lines back to the drawing office. But here once again I was the youngest now of 3 apprentices so had to take on tea making duties for the loft and the nearest hot water boiler was down in the platers shed at ground level, this used to take up about 20mins of my 1hr lunch, one of the loftsmen Larry would tell me to put his tea on the radiator because he would be in the pub everyday!!!

My last year of apprenticeship was spent in the planning office it should have been the drawing office but Data the draughtsmens union at the time was not happy for me to move from the yard to the drawing office. I finished my apprenticeship in the planning office and then at the age of 22 went off to the wear to work , but that’s another story.