Any memories of Crookesmoor School?

[Rcr1966]

my mother said that the houses that were bombed were across the street from hers. What was your aunts name. I have an old picture of the corner of Mitchell and Sutton street.

 

---------- Post added 14-11-2015 at 22:56 ----------

 

I am looking for a childhood friend of my mother. My mothers maiden name was Patricia Ann Saynor my mother went to Crooksmoore and is 80-years old. She grew up on Mitchell Street. He's friends name was Margaret Bartholomew and Margaret grew up on Hope Street. Patricia never forgot Margaret and has always remembered what became of her. Any information would be helpful.

[John1941]

Hi;

Her name was Ethel Butler & her husband was Bill Butler. They were probably born in about 1880, so would of been in their sixties at the end of the war

 

I don't know remember where Hope Street was but I have a friend who lived on mushroom lane. I'll send him the info to see if he has any memories.

 

John

[goneforeign]

I just wrote this for another project and it occurred to me to Google Crookesmoor School, this page came up. This might be a bit long winded but it might be of interest to someone?

 

My first memories of school relate to Crooksmoor Rd Elementary school which is where I started in about 1939 at the age of 5, I think I stayed approx 2 years. I have a few vague memories of my time there. It's where I learned to read and to write, I can clearly remember learning to write, probably copying from the blackboard. Reading is much vaguer, I can't be specific but I do remember becoming addicted to Capt. W E John's Biggles books and reading them all plus of having a weekly subscription to both the Beano and the Dandy and within 3-4 years getting a library card for Walkley public library.

I remember a teacher drawing a round pie on the board and dividing it into 6 sections, she had the whole class repeat after her 'Six sixths equals one whole!' I had no idea what she was talking about and I remember feeling very uncomfortable because of that. She also taught us our 'times tables', two through twelve. Once I'd learned all the two's it was easy up to 12 though I remember feeling uneasy about 13+, that was unknown territory, fortunately we didn't have to go there.

WW2 was happening, one teacher told us that we should all knit an 8" by 8" woolen square and they'd all be stitched together to make a blanket for our soldiers. We were taught how to knit. Sadly my maroon square had a mistake right in the middle, a knot, but it was included in the final blanket.

The elementary school was in a separate building [down Tay St.] from the regular school, I don't remember making the transition but I have lots of memories of my time at the school. None of those memories capture the scale of the school, it's size or the number of students or the 'curriculum' if there was one. All of my memories relate to a single classroom that I was probably in for about 5-6 years plus an auditorium that we assembled in twice a day. A few years ago, approx 50 years after leaving that school I was visiting Sheffield, I decided to go and have a look at it. My first surprise was that it was [a] For Sale/Rent and that it was no longer a school, it had become a community center. But the door was open so I walked in. The first thing that impressed me was how small it was, second that there were only two classrooms, mine and one other. I don't think we called it an auditorium, I think it was just the 'Hall', it was where we assembled for prayers and hymns every morning at 9am and where we assembled again at about 3pm for a few words from the headmaster before we were dismissed. I remember several teachers in that classroom though I don't remember specifically what we were taught, there was a mix of male and female teachers and there was one sadistic ******* who loved using the cane, he kept a collection leaning against the wall behind his desk and used them very freely. 6 strokes, 3 on each hand was quite common. I have no memory of being disruptive or in any way deserving the cane but but I can remember getting it on several occasions, always from the same teacher.

 

I used to sit in class and whatever the subject I’d probably be drawing pictures of aircraft, mostly German in my exercise books and I became quite good at it. Every teacher’s report card said basically the same thing “Tony lacks the ability to concentrate, he doesn’t apply himself to the lessons in class”. Our classroom had a 30” blackboard around three sides, one female teacher asked me if I would like to draw a panorama along the back wall, I probably said OK, but I had no idea what a panorama looked like so I asked my Granny, she had no idea either so she told me to go to the Walkley library and ask there. They were not much help except the librarian pointed me to an alcove where the dictionaries and encyclopedias were kept and that was a turning point, from then on I always had a library card and spent hours there poring through those interesting books. I found out what panoramas looked like and then created something that was based on that famous photograph of St. Paul's Cathedral in London during their blitz, I drew a panorama of a night-time skyline during a blitz with German bombers, Spitfires, searchlights, destroyed buildings and fire and smoke, it filled the entire back wall of the classroom: it stayed there as long as I was at that school, which was 'til the end of the war.

 

There was one significant detail that I remember from that period, it was probably in 1945. There was an examination that all schoolchildren took when they were 11 years old. If you passed the exam you were bound for grammar school and thence university, if you failed you probably wound up in Firth Brown or a coal mine. I knew that I was the smartest kid in that class, I was always first with my hand up to answer a question and I was interested in so many things outside of school, I knew that I was special. My best friend was John Webster, not particularly bright but a nice guy and my friend. He passed the exam and I failed, supposedly by 1 point, I was shattered, or at least very disappointed.

In 1946 my father was demobbed from the army, he asked me if I'd like to come and live with him and his new wife in London or would I prefer to stay with my Grandmother who I'd lived with since I was about 2, I chose London and that was the end of my stay at Crooksmoor Rd school.

I suppose that they fulfilled their 3R's obligations what with times tables, reading and writing, though I think once started my reading was independent of school. Wartime was a very unusual state of affairs, there were very few adults around, the police were all old men, I could travel anywhere in the city on the trams for half a penny, consequently I spent much of my time in the museums, libraries, art galleries, parks and generally just roaming the city; I think that's where my education took place. School didn't have any social activities whatsoever, no sports, no clubs, no Art, no music, no after school activities, nothing to create interaction with other students.

[John1941]

First to Rcr1966: I checked with my friend re the name you were searching for; unfortunately he couldn't help.

 

To GoneForeign: Brought back a lot of memories. I didn't start at Crookesmoor until 1946 but not a lot had changed. If you were there from 1939 to end of war you must have known the 'tip' before it was bombed - I assume that is what happened. Thanks for the memories. I also ''went foreign' - to Canada - after teaching in Sheffield for a couple of years. Still there. Thanks for the memories.

[55ranby]

Interesting - I mut have been there the same time as "goneforeign" but for a short while only - 1939-40. I lived at the other side of The Rec. in Bromley St.

My main memory (and only!) is getting a punch on my nose after school in Oxford St., to which I attributed my future nasal problems!!

Talking of war planes, my claim to wartime fame was shouting from our garden to my Mum "Its one of theirs!" and a few moments later the Air Raid sirens went off.

Then we moved house and I ended up at Hunters bar School, which holds more memories........

[goneforeign]

John 1941.

I don't think there were ever any bombs on the tip, I was there from before Sept 3 1939 'til after the end of the war, Sept 1945, I never ever saw any evidence and I was there almost every day.

The tip was pure gravel, not a green leaf anywhere in sight. I think the tip was created from the slag that was tipped out of the furnaces down along the Don, the slag was the waste material that 'floated' to the surface, it was liquid stone, soil, iron and coke plus various chemicals, they always tipped it out before they poured the steel, my grandad had the job of wheelbarrowing it away from the furnaces. My hunch is that it was 'tipped' there and used the build the dam along which Crookes Valley Rd runs, when the dam was finished the remainder was spread over the surface of the 'tip'. That's where the name came from. If you look at that dam there's millions of cubic yards of material in it, ask yourself 'where did it come from?' there's nowhere locally that shows any evidence of having that amount of soil removed. I think it was an ongoing process throughout the second half of the 19th century, they shipped it up from the Don valley and dumped it there and then used it to build the dam. I've tried several times contacting the Sheffield Historical Society to get info re the building of the dam and the tip but they never respond. I've written quite a lot about this area in WW2 so maybe I'll post some bits here. Like this one.

 

One clear summer day I went out to play by myself on the tip and when I looked up I saw a sight like nothing I’d ever seen before. There were hundreds of allied planes circling around and around and forming up into formations. They were all bombers or transports, lots of DC3 Dakotas and Lancasters, very few fighters and each one had something I’d never seen before: they all had black and white stripes on the wings and the fuselages. I had no idea what that meant but I was very intrigued. That night on BBC 9 o’clock news the announcer said “Today the allied invasion of occupied Europe has begun....” D Day had started and everyday thereafter we listened to reports from correspondents with the troops as they advanced towards Berlin. I have no memory of VE day and I’m at a loss to understand why since I can remember in vivid detail the street party that we had for VJ day.

 

For almost everyone in Europe the war was a terrible time, a time of separation and losses, of terrible fear, of shortages and rationing and of emotional turmoil, but for kids, particularly boys of my age in my environment, it was the most exciting time to grow up. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

[55ranby]

Re: The Rec.(Tip?) - during the Sheffield Blitz I can testify to a small bomb landing on the Rec. just over the iron railings smack opposite our house at 157? Bromley St. I was asleep in the front bedroom when the whole window was blown in and landed on my bed! My dad was home on leave from the RAF and the first I remember about it was being carried into the Anderson shelter in the back garden, which was always part full of water - useless things! Also, at the top of the street was a long arched service tunnel under the reservoir wall which was also used as a bomb shelter and locals put old armchairs down both sides of the tunnel, to be there when required during an air raid. They were "reserved" by tying a length of rope, or similar, between the arms! One night just after the window incident, we were sheltering in the tunnel when a bomb landed close to the large iron entrance doors, blowing them off their hinges. My memory is of my dad shouting to everyone "Keep calm, keep calm!!"

 

I visited the area a few years ago, for old times' sake, and Bromley St. houses have for many years been replaced (thank goodness) by a grass bank and trees, though, as a memento, the granite gate posts to the Rec. have been left in place, along with the cobbled street surface! The Rec. itself now boasts play areas and sculptures, but not much else.

 

I could go on.........maybe later.

Edited December 8, 2015 by 55ranby
Spelling mistake.

[John1941]

Thanks for the explanation about the tip. I never knew despite living in the area for fifteen years. I didn't realize that Crooks Valley Road was built as part of a dam. I remember the boating lake but I didn't realize it was part of a water course. Presumably the whole stretch above Western Park - including what were university soccer fields - were part of it.

 

I didn't know anything about the tunnel under the bank. When I'm visiting next year I'll go looking for the concrete gate posts.

 

I do remember an Anderson shelter in our back garden (I lived on Parsons Cross until I was 5). Useless seemed to have been a common description.

 

I am fascinated by your recollections. Keep them coming.

 

thx

[goneforeign]

55ranby.

I'm amazed by your bomb story, as I said I was there throughout the war and I never saw any bomb evidence nor did I ever hear about it, but I don't doubt you. I know the tunnel but I was always a bit scared of it, there was always a padlock on the steel grill, it looked foreboding in there.

john 1941;

Re. the dams, there were 3, my guess is that the one at Crookes Valley Rd was originally intended to be full, right up to the dam but imagine if that had ever burst, it would be goodbye Don Valley and Upperthorpe, so that may be why it became a small recreational pond. The second one was a bit further up the valley, there's a road, Northumberland rd that runs from Crookesmoor Rd to Western Bank, there was a dam right above that road and thirdly right at the top of Crookesmoor Rd where it intersects Crooks Rd there used to be a wall on the left side; if you looked over the wall there was another dam. It's all been replaced with houses now. The dams probably all had names but we never knew 'em.

Here's a piece I wrote for a book about WW2 memories.

 

Close to our house at the top of Crooksmoor Rd. there was a valley that had a small dam across it, it was a favorite place for us to play and swim. One day after swimming there we were cold and wanted to dry off and get warm so we decided to light a fire. The hillsides around the dam were covered with what we called ‘gorse bushes’ sometimes called ‘furze’ in other parts of the country. It’s a scrubby bushlike plant with hard woody stems that gets up to about 4-5ft and it spreads laterally. When it dies it becomes sharp and brittle and dry as tinder. We unthinkingly lit our fire under a clump and it roared into flame instantly, totally out of control and on top of that the whole hillside was covered with it and it was contiguous, every plant touched another! Within minutes the entire hillside was engulfed in flames and we knew it was time for a hasty retreat. We fled and ran until we were on the road [Crooksmoor Rd] that looked down on the dam from the opposite side of the valley and found a spot with a view of the entire scene. There were several people watching the fire so we asked one of them what was happening “Bloody mischievous kids, that’s what’s happening” he said, another adult piped in and said she’d seen kids running away from the fire just minutes before. Bloody mischievous kids! Adults would probably say “No parental supervision, no coppers, no men around to control all these kids, everybody’s off at the war, that’s why all these kids are running wild", and that was probably true, but it was wonderful from our point of view.

[John1941]

These are wonderful reminiscences. I'm sharing them with my kids - all born in Canada - and they love them. Also tell me more about WWII memories. Is it just about Sheffield?

 

I'll add a memory of mine, probably 1955. I was playing for the school team on the tip in a match against another school-don't remember who- but we had the advantage because the other school were used to playing on grass, not gravel. My dad had nailed new studs into my boots the day before the game. Unfortunately one of the nails had come through the sole and into my foot. I remember being in pain the whole game but it ended well because I scored the only goal. When I got home and told my dad about the nail he told me that a little pain is good. Makes a man out of you.