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My Father, Alfred William Ruffle, part one

 

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My Pa was an amazing fellow.
He was born November the 14th 1915, in Tolleshunt Knights. On his birth certificate it says his Mother’s residence was 72 Fambridge road, but essentially my Pa was brought up in the legendary Dagger lane. Dagger lane was so called, my Father said, because the ruffians who lived there were supposed to carry daggers with which to rob any unfortunate passer by who happened to stray there. It’s also said that sailors carried knives for self defence, and Maldon being a busy shipping port there were always a fair amount of sea faring men in the town.
Dagger lane was actually North Street and my Father, his Sister Gladys, his Brother John, and his Ma and Pa all lived there, at number 55, before his Mother took off in 1922/23.

55 North Street

55 North Street

In his memoirs my Pa discribes Dagger lane and the surrounding area with great detail. One his first memories was falling down the stairs, at the age of 4 and a half,(1919) and striking his head on the chamber pot that had been emptied and washed and put at the foot of the stairs, ready to be taken up and returned to its place under my Grand Mother’s bed.
The wound on his head was quite bad, so my Nan wrapped him up and took him to the nearby Queen’s head pub. The landlady,  Annie Maxwell, was a great friend of my Nans, and from there he was rushed up to the Doctors opposite Maldon police station(now a Dental surgery and coincidentally the place where Alfie would have his treatment to assess the removal of his last wisdom tooth, aged 90!).

The Queen's Head

The Queen's Head

 

 My Father couldn’t remember the Doctor’s name, only that he had a white beard and Mutton chop side burns! The Doctor put a small pad of gauze on my Pa’s nose, shook a few drops of Chloroform on it, then put 10 neat stitches in the wound.
Father even remembered the time he left the surgery, 7.30 a.m.!

Whilst my Pa never claimed to be academically smart, he enjoyed woodworking at school(which held him in good stead in several jobs)and adored Geography. He told me he studied Geograhy  intently, dreaming of what these strange and foreign lands were really like. It was this dreaming that eventually lead him to traverse the Globe, many times over.

 

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He told me a story about one of his Teachers, a Mrs Shaunessy, who took him and his whole class to see Charlie Chaplin in “The Gold Rush” in 1925. He loved Chaplin and that movie, but I think he was genuinely touched by her generosity, after all, as he said, it “must’ve cost a fortune” to take some 30 kids to the local Cinema. And he reckoned the tickets would’ve cost at least “3 old Pence” each.

 

Gladys aged 15 in 1927

Gladys aged 15 in 1927

 

After his Mother fled the family home his Sister Gladys took over as the home keeper. When he complained that she no longer had to go to school and he did, Gladys would bribe my Father with a halfpenny or a farthing, which he usually spent at a shop called Wasketts, at the top of Dagger lane. Wasketts had “a most delicious selection of sweets, arranged on low shelves and displayed in the boxes they came in, mostly Barrats confectionary”. The prices ranged from 2 gobstoppers for a farthing, to expensive chocolate, at 2 old pence a quarter ounce.
Mr Waskett used to sell strong elastic to the older boys to make catapults, which were used mostly to stun rabbits, which were a major part of the diet in those times(the late 1910′s/early 1920′s)
But Pa told me his Father would come home with pidgeon and blackbirds, which he would dress and cook. It seems inconcievable to eat song birds in this day and age, but it gives us an indication of how poor people were then.
Fortunately, at that time Maldon was a thriving fishing port, so when it could be afforded fresh fish was available. And my Pa loved sea food! I remember him bringing home tin pails of whelks when I was 7 or 8, which he’d boil alive in a big pot my Ma used to make her jam in! He said eating whelks gave you “Tread like a cabman’s whip”. Hmmm……..

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My Pa’s Father( also Alfred Ruffle) was a Stoker at the Gas works. He worked 8 hour shifts, 7 days a week, but as a result of his hard work, could afford to buy my Pa shoes for school. Apparently his Mother seemed to reappear in 1923/24, and his Father went out and bought a wind up gramophone, “just like the one on the “His Master’s voice” records”. This made the Ruffle family the envy of the street, and apparently one of Pa’s favourite records was “When Johnny comes marching home again”. He also loved the “B” side “Larboard Watch”. Can anyone tell me who the artist was who did this particular version?

My Ma and Pa 1935

My Ma and Pa 1935

 

Father wrote alot about Dagger lane. He said that it’s reputation for being rough and violent was founded, mostly he said the bigger boys with their rough upbringing bullying anyone foolish enough to venture down the lane at night. He said fights between familes were quite common, and blood often flowed.
My Ma said she hated to walk there because of the strangely handicapped people that lived there. With clubbed feet, withered limbs, and all manner of scarey physical deformaties. It’s been suggested that incest was rife in our corner of Essex, perhaps that could explain it?
But Pa never mentioned that, tho’ he did write all about his favourite characters…….

Punk part 2

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Post the Damned Roundhouse gig, the flood gates truly opened.

I remember walking through the graveyard at St Mary’s church, the route I always took to and from our local pub, the Queen’s Head on the quay in Maldon, late one November  night in 1976, having consumed several Bob and Abbots, a particularly potent beer, anticipting playing a new single Will had picked up for me, “Anarchy in the UK” by the Sex Pistols.

As per, I got home and Ma and Pa were watching some mind numbingly dull(to me!)tv show. The music centre, the source of all the family’s loud vinyl premieres was unfortunately in the same room as the tv, but no matter, headphones at the ready, the 7 inch piece of plastic that was about to change my life was cocked and loaded. After a few seconds my Ma tapped my Pa and told him to sort me out, apparently my breathing had become rather fierce, as had my body movements! As GG Allin so succinctly summed it up, convulsions! Such was the power of Rock’n'Roll, Sex Pistols stylee! A fantastic first single, the layered guitar production a heavy revelation, and Johnny’s vocals, all Baa Lamb bleaty and mad! I could hear Chuck Berry’s influence looming large on Steve Jones’ guitar playing, and a little bit of a Hawkwind boogie banging around in there.But that was it, the guvnors had arrived.

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And when God save the Queen was vreleased, in May 1977 they were the coolest, and just in time for the Silver f**king Jubilee, which Will and I celebrated at the Carpenter’s arms, at the posh end of Maldon, by getting the most drunk we ever had!
But prior to that, when Her Maj had visited Maldon in 1971, Will had barged his way through the crowd to the front of the Moot hall, all greasy hair and great coat, and given her lovely Limo the facist salute! He was already Punk, he pre empted the Pistols!
And we really didn’t think we had a future, or rather we didn’t want any of the futures they offered, kicking against the pricks we hated, the rich, the government, the snobs, the people who wanted us to be factory fodder, to conform.
Didn’t happen chaps, did it?!?

I spose the next big event for Will and I was seeing the Clash at the Chancellor hall on May the 29th, supported by the Subway Sect, the Slits and the Prefects, in that order I believe. The Clash were dynamite, I loved their look, and they were still very credible then. I remember Joe Strummer shouting “Go home in gangs!” at the end of the evening. The support bands didn’t really do a great deal for me, and I positively hated the Slits, grubby, noisey children!

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I got to meet Paul Simonon at a party at Hilary’s in Islington later that Summer, think he just about managed “Hello”. He was with Jasper Conran, who in those days was just a wannabe designer, from the famous family, but still a nobody. I was wearing a really cool blue Lewis bike leather, with about as many zips on it as were humanly possible, with bright red drainpipe cord jeans, and blue 8 hole Doc Martens.
Jasper must’ve tried every way he possibly could to get the jacket off me! Money, drink, drugs, invites to trendy parties, etc, but I was having none of it, I was proud of the jacket, it was beautiful, maximum Punk rock and a gift from a beautiful woman  whose name I recall as Becky, but if you asked me what she looked like, the only thing I could say was pretty.

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And of course Will became the social secretary at the Colchester institute in the Spring of ’77, which gave him carte blanche to book all our favourite Punk bands.
One gig that has always stuck in my mind was Generation X gig supported by the Art Attacks, who were led by Edwin Pouncey, a friend of mine and  Colin Murray’s from art school. Eddie was an amazing fellow, apparently someone had slipped Eddie a tab of Acid on the last day of one of his terms at Art school. On the train home he’d become convinced a Grizzly Bear was chasing him through the train! He made a series of fabulous photo collages as a result, some of which he showed me.
He had a wonderfully skewed slant on life.

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Colin had become my Rock’n'Roll guru at the time, but unbeknown to me, he’d copped a lot of his licks and likes from Edwin. Edwin was(and hopefully still is!) a short chap, with a dapper look, light suits and a perma-beret.  In 1975 he turned me onto the Blue Oyster Cult, specifically “On your feet, or on your knees” the live double vinyl album. But more importantly, he played me “Go Girl Crazy” by the wonderful Dictators from New York. A truly life changing record, very funny, very hard rocking with major nods to Iggy and the Dolls, produced by BOC’s producers, Sandy Pearlman and Murray Krugman. Their productions really came alive played very loud, something Colin Murray would treat us to on his great sounding HiFi he had in the squat he lived in, in Belle Vue  road, in Colchester.
Of course Pearlman and Krugman also produced Pavlov’s Dog, I loved “Pampered Menial” and still do. Aside from the Mellotron( a 60′s keyboard, as popularised by the Beatles, the Moody Blues, King Crimson et all.) and the very dynamically played, almost Gothic arrangements, David Surkamp’s voice was incredible, I initially couldn’t tell whether his voice was male or female. Beautiful, melancholic music.

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Generation X were great, they seriously rocked, and Will and I hung out with them after the gig, having a few beers. Billy Idol had disappeared into the toilets with some Teeny looker, but we hung out at the bar, the rest of the band Tony James, Mark Laff and Bob Andrews were very approachable and we had the crack. Will and I also DJ’d between bands, lots of Dub reggae, from Will’s fabulous collection of pre release(as Jamaican imports were called in those days) 7 inch vinyl singles.
Another fab pre Punk(and post Punk) ritual for Will, and me occasionally, was to visit Daddy Cool records, which was originally just off Oxford street  in London.
It was an odd little shop, probably no more than ten feet square, and on Friday afternoon, when all the new singles arrived, the place would be rammed out. There were huge speakers in the shop front, and each new single was given probably a minutes preview through this system, fantastically loud. You couldn’t get to the counter to ask the shop assistant/DJ for a copy, so the form was when the preview had finished, you raised a hand and a copy was put on the counter for you. At the end of an hour or so’s previews, Will would have a fair lump of vinyl sitting there. Think they were £1.50 a copy in 1976, undoubtably Reggae’s golden year, with Lee Perry, the Mighty Two,  and King Tubby to name a few of our favourites, producing some of their best work.

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As the Autumn came in 1977, so the musical tide shifted, and Punk Rock became very mainstream, neutered by the major labels for the masses. The Clash very definately sold out, and style became more important than content, at least to us fledgling suburban Punkers. For us, never again would they reach the glorious heights of their first album, and started producing what Will termed “HippyShit”!  And with Glen Matlock leaving the Pistols, and the nigh on impossibilty of seeing them live, although we still loved them the Pistols kindof slipped off our radar. We loved Sid, and “Bollocks” was fabulous, but sadly their existance became a media circus, specifically when they toured America.
The Jam probably lead the “New Wave”, with their more sophisticated songwriting and musicianship.
And at that point, Will, Paul and I looked like Beatle Boys(all snowy white).
I still loved the Ramones, the New York Dolls and the Stooges, but having seen the Groovies several times, and with Paul rediscovering the Beatles and Merseybeat for us, Punk was old hat, and the New Wave had begun……