In the 1967 souvenir programme, I wrote about schooldays in Stewarton in the thirties; this is a sequel to that article and includes more memories of the thirties and then moves on into the forties. So if you wish, temporarily, to turn the clock back, read on.

In 1930 Stewarton was a very different place from what it is today, in the housing conditions that existed, in the customs and pastimes of the townspeople, and in the general layout and size of the town.
Prior to this the only council owned houses were the flats in Vennel Street and Laughland Place, the first two blocks in Dean Street, and the small schemes at the Crescent and the Merrygreens. Many people lived in old tenement buildings some of which were slums, with dreadful overcrowding and poor sanitary conditions. During the early and mid-thirties the Town Council embarked on a vast housing programme, and subsequently new modern buildings were erected at Avenue Street, Castle Salt, Dean Street, Lainshaw Street and Standalane.
Families from all over the town transferred into the new homes which included the then luxuries of bathrooms and electricity. It was really the beginning of a great new social reform.
Another bad feature of those days was unemployment of which Stewarton had more than its share, with numerous local men out of work for years through no fault of their own. It was no uncommon sight to see crowds of men hanging around the street corners in faded navy blue serge suits, collarless shirts and bunnets—the uniform of the day—during normal working hours. To pass their time in winter those " on the buroo " frequented the billiards rooms at the Tory and Institute Clubs (the latter is now the local library) while in summer the putting green at Strandhead was the favourite haunt, and it was only natural that some of the men became experts at these games. Around 1938-39, due to the threat of war, more work became available and unemployment virtually ceased to exist.
Last year I mentioned the small shops of Nan Brown and Auld Callan because they were near the school, but there were other wee general stores all over the town, such as Minnie Stirling's in Dean Street, Jean Newland's in Springwell Place, Mrs. Currie's in High Street and Mrs. Bayne's " doon the Bey ".
The one I remember best was Mary Tamson's in Lainshaw Street (formerly known as Belle Tamson's). Mary Tamson was really Mrs. Nelson and everyone in Lainshaw Street and Standalane patronised her shop, which was actually her own kitchen. She sold everything from a packet of hair-pins to a plate of hot peas, and when you bought a bottle of lemonade or a packet of crisps, you just pulled in a chair round the fire and joined in the crack. If " soor plooms " or "' black strippit balls " were your fancy, you received them in a poke made out of a page of last week's " People's Friend " or " Red Letter ". Mary Tamson herself was a real homely person and a friend of everyone in the district. In these days of multiples and supermarkets it is sad, in many ways, that the wee shops are disappearing.
In my previous article I wrote about the best school football team Stewarton ever produced when the cup was won in 1930. Some years later I played in what must have been the worst eleven ever to represent the school, as during, that particular season our record was Played 20, Won I, Drawn, I Lost 18, with the goals -against reaching astronomical figures. Mr. Auld was the teacher-in-charge and he .must have been heart-broken watching our miserable efforts.

One memorable day we travelled to Springside where we had high hopes of a victory, as the Springside team was one of the worst in the league. In the first half we kicked downhill and at half-time the score was 4-0 . . . for Springside. During the interval Jimmy Auld's words were something like " Stick in, boys, you're not beaten yet "—he must have been a super optimist. In our efforts to keep the score down in the second half " Tony " Aitken, Willie Williamson and the rest of us in defence began kicking the ball into the nearby pond, but this only infuriated the Springside right back— a real tough looking guy—and after the ball had landed in the water for the umpteenth time, he rushed down the park like an enraged bull, caught one of our players by the jersey and threatened to throw him in after it. The ball remained in the field of play after that. And the final score . . . Springside 10, Stewarton 0. As they say in the best football circles " we sterted aff bad and fell awa' ". I can't remember the exact team that day but it would be chosen from—and I don't expect thanks for this—Jack Morrison, Jack Sim, Charlie Moncur, Davie Gardiner, lan Stewart, Geordie Brown, " Tony " Aitken, Jock Deans, Alan Sim, Jock Davidson, Eddie Campbell, Willie Auld, John Broadhurst, Willie Williamson, Willie Barnes and " Dally " Barclay.
While on the subject of football, one ploy we used to get up to as boys was collecting money round the doors to buy a new leather ball. We wrote a short poem on a piece of paper, and it went like this: " The sky is blue, the sea is deep, but the Stewarton Rovers are hard to beat; Ladies and gentlemen sit at your ease, put your hand in your pockets and give what you please; a ha'penny or penny, anything at all, as long as it helps us to buy a new ball ". It was really a colossal bit of brassneck, but the results were usually quite good; the only trouble was that it took a considerable number of pennies to buy that ball, so invariably the shilling or two collected would be blown on fish suppers and ice drinks in Willie Barclay's or " the Tallies ". However, on one occasion we not only bought a ball but a set of strips as well, and the team was named, for some unknown reason, the Arsenal Vies. After playing a few matches, " the committee " decided to drop one player, but in true boys' fashion he refused to part with his jersey, so that was the end of the Arsenal Vies.
Lainshaw was a private estate then and the grounds were sacrosanct to the majority of Stewarton people. On one October Saturday morning per annum however, for the purpose of gathering chestnuts, the local children were allowed inside the hallowed precincts by the landlord. Major Goff. We all gathered outside the gates, with basket or bag, until the gamekeeper (or " gemmie "), Mr. Hay, arrived to open up and escort us round. Of course some of the more mischievous lads had already been over the wall, and had more than likely been chased back by the aforementioned Mr. Hay. But when spotted by the gemmie we didn't tarry, because in " parliamo Stewarton " language, " we kent whaur we wurnae wantit ".
Two memorable events occurred in the mid-thirties when first the silver jubilee of King George V was celebrated, and later the coronation of King George VI. The former took place on Monday, 6th May, 1935, which coincided with the local Cadgers' Fair, and was celebrated in the town in various ways including dances, a bonfire, fireworks display and late night dancing on the pond at Strandhead. We schoolchildren assembled in the school playground that morning to listen to speeches by the local dignitaries including Provost Cunningham, and to be presented with a Jubilee medal and a tin box containing Bourneville chocolate to commemorate the occasion. From there we marched to the local picture house to see a film show.
On Coronation day on 12th May, 1937, we again lined up in the playground for more speechifying by Provost Kerr, etc. After this we all sang a song called—of all things—" This England," which was adapted from a passage in Shakespeare's " King Richard II " (I wonder what Winnie Ewing would have said ?). We had rehearsed this intricate tune for weeks previously, under the expert leadership of that old music (head)master Mr. Waddell, who had threatened us with all sorts of punishments if we dared to lose pitch. On the occasion of the Coronation each child received a commemorative mug of Cadbury's milk chocolates. Later that day the school sports were held.
As the dark Bourneville chocolate was not to my taste, I gave my Jubilee tin to my father, who kept it as a souvenir- Some years later he brought it out to show it off to some friends, but when he opened the tin the chocolate had vanished. It must have been the mice!

The evacuation scheme, under the direction of Mr. Jack Hamilton and Mr. W. B. Waddell and their assistants, had commenced on the previous Friday when a large contingent of children, some accompanied by mothers, had arrived in town from Glasgow. After a weekend however, many of them returned to the city as " there was nothing to do but stare at the green fields ". Most of those who persevered lasted but a few weeks more until there was only the odd child left. (Ironically many of the ex-Glasgow people now in the town actually live on these very fields at Lainshaw and Rigghead— and love it.)
Of course private evacuees came to live with friends or relations and remained for a long time; one of those was David McCallum, alias llya Kuryakin, the famous TV star.
After the hectic preparations came stalemate, and the period from September, 1939, to May, 1940, came to be known as " the phoney war ". The popular songs were " We're gonna hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line," " Run rabbit run," " Roll out the barrel " and " Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye "—the latter sung by the much loved Gracie Fields.
During this period civilians were encouraged to join one of the voluntary Organisations such as the Red Cross, A.R.P., Fire Service, W.V.S., etc. In 1940 after Dunkirk the Local Defence Volunteers (or L.D.V.) were formed. At the outset they were something of a laughing stock as they had no proper uniforms or arms, and actually went on guard carrying Sticks for rifles; in fact some wags named them" the fireside sodjers ".

Stewarton Home Guard

In due course however, the name was altered to Home Guard, the men were issued with real army uniforms, rifles and other equipment, and after training they became first class part time soldiers, with local headquarters at the Drill Hall.
In 1941 the real army came to town when camps were established in the district, the main one being at Lainshaw estate. During the next few years various regiments and sections of the army were stationed there, including the Lancers, the Royal Engineers, the Rifle Brigade and the Lothian and Border Horse. For a while it was commonplace to see the large Crusader tanks rumbling all round the town, hence we now have the local street names Lothian Road and Crusader Crescent. While on this subject, this is an opportune moment to recall that three other streets were named after Stewarton men who were killed in the war; 'Morton Road is named after brothers Tom and Robert Morton, Sim Street after brothers Robert and Alan Sim, and Thomson Terrace after Alee Thomson and George Thomson.
To cater for the army off duty a Church of Scotland canteen was opened at the Laigh Kirk (now St. Columba's) and this proved to be a first class refuge and home-from-home for the soldiers. The canteen was organised by a committee which included the Rev. A. R. Hastie, Rev. J. R. Colquhoun, Rev. W. C. Cowan, Rev. T. M. Phillips and several other prominent local men. Mr. John Campbell (later referred to as " Mr. Canteen himself") was also a leading figure in the organisation. The ladies and girls of the town under the conscientious leadership of Mrs. David Dickson and her hard working department heads such as Mrs. Shaw, Miss Ethel Brown, Miss Betty Barclay and Miss Aggie Gilles performed wonders in providing tea, sandwiches, rolls, teabread, cakes etc., all at extremely reasonable charges; I'm informed that they even washed and darned the lads' socks on occasion. In an average year 150,000 rolls, 7,000 loaves and large quantities of tea, coffee, etc., were sold, and in the post office section, 41,000 letters were posted. One ex-serviceman who was stationed in the town for a spell, Mr. Joe Gilmartin (better known as " Gil ") informs me that of the canteens he visited all over Britain, not one could compare with the warmth of welcome, friendly atmosphere and exceptional value for money he experienced in the Stewarton canteen—praise indeed!
Not only were the troops well provided for in the canteen, but the townspeople opened their doors to them, offering hospitality and friendship in homely surrounding?. To misquote Churchill, never was so much done for so many by so many.
Meanwhile back at the school, due to the call to arms, the male teaching staff had been depleted. The Higher Grade staff now included Miss Hargreave (French and Latin) and Mrs. Waddell who had come out of retirement to teach maths. Miss Cortis had become Mrs. Mainds and had taken over her husband's post as English teacher, and local girl Miss Isobell Mackie was the gym. teacher.
One year, to assist the Dig for Victory campaign, Mr. Alf Smith started a school garden. The main produce was potatoes and local farmer's son, Andrew Clairk, instructed the other boys on how to dig a drill Although there was much skylarking during the preparation, an excellent crop was produced and Joe Gait was appointed chief salesman,

In the first year of the war the children had to carry their gas masks to school. The masks were lined up against the classroom wall and Miss Jolly's practice I'm told, was to stop Suddenly in the middle of a vulgar fraction and shout "AIR RAID" The puir weans had then to rush out, grab their own masks remove them from their containers, put them on, stagger blindly back to their desks and dive under—all in ten seconds flat, What a carry on! Fortunately the real thing never happened
Stewarton Picture House was still a thriving establishment and was packed every night when Lainshaw camp was busy. On the screen Mickey Rooney was the number one box office attraction; Bing, Bob and Dorothy were travelling the roads of the world, and John Wayne and Errol Flynn were winning the war on all fronts. Pin-up girl Betty Grable was the allied forces' favourite. Abbot and Costello were all the rage, a youthful Sinatra appeared on the scene and the British film industry had a new lease of life. The film which is generally regarded as the best motion picture ever made, " Gone with the wind," was first shown and packed cinemas all over the country.
Strange as it may seem, Stewarton was a real swinging town during the war as there were social, dances, concerts, whist drives and other sprees every other night of the week. Occasionally at those functions something unforeseen, due to the wartime conditions, might occur. At one particular dance held in the Institute Hall, the dancers were " hooching " their merry way through a drops o' brandy in the wee sma' hours; suddenly the band stopped playing and the lights were dimmed. Amid the confusion a voice from somewhere announced—" Yis'l hiv tae stoap noo—the sireen's jist went!" immediately the First Aid personnel present rushed to their post at the old Rifle Range, feeling comparatively fresh and ready for action, to be joined shortly by their non-dancing colleagues looking drawn, unshaven and browned off. It was all happening in Stewarton in wartime!
In 1940 Mr. Harry Milford started a youth club which he named the Under Twenties Club. It was held every Friday evening at the school and the first part of each meeting consisted of debates, quiz nights, talks by various personalities, etc., etc. ; after this there was dancing or " the jiggin " in the Drill room. As the collection was one penny per night some wit called it " the penny hop " and the name stuck. A band was formed comprising Mr. Milford on piano or fiddle, Mr. Jimmy Auld (when available) on fiddle, Mr. John Currie on piano and yours truly on drums; Milton Hunter was reserve drummer. Later Gordon Sim joined the club and took over on piano for part of each night, playing boogie woogie—traditionally with fag in mouth—for the benefit of the jivers. The dancing was a mixture of old time and modem and the Highlights of each week came when Tarn Orr was burlin' his unfortunate partner at the eight some reel, and at the quickstep with Willie Barclay's version of jitter bugging. Incidentally we didn't go in for any of these modern dances (?) where they stand about three feet apart; we preferred the arm round the waist routine plus the smooth " d'you come here often, smashin' baun intit " line of patter. The Penny Hop carried on throughout the war years and will recall happy times to-many.

Stewarton had a very distinguished visitor in 1942 when on Thursday, 15th October—a dull drizzly day—King George VI came to town to inspect the troops, prior to their embarking for the North African campaign. The visit was kept extremely hush-hush and nobody knew much about it until the very last minute. The schoolchildren were then given a half holiday to welcome the V.I.P. and everyone expected a top ranking Army officer. It was only when the king stepped out of his car and began to walk along Lainshaw Street that the secret was revealed.
As the war dragged on the British public gradually became accustomed to a new way of life. We were all involved in one capacity or another, from the .armed forces or merchant navy serving in all parts of the world, to the ordinary civilians doing their stints in one of the voluntary organisations.
In the forces one was either browned off, chockar or cheesed depending on whether one was in the army, navy or air force, and instead of a week's holiday it was seven days' leave. Those were the days of battledress, brass hats and bull, tiddley suits, tickler and tots, and Waafs, Wellingtons and wizard prangs. The days of Alvar Liddell, Bruce Belfrage and Frank Phillips, nissen huts and naafis, rationing and registering, the blackout, the black market and the blitz, clothing coupons and queues and Monty and MacArthur.
Those were also the days of Winston Churchill's inspiring speeches, and his famous cigar and V-sign. Thankfully it all ended in 1945.
Demobilisation was immediately set in motion. Soon all the Jimmy's—and the Jocks—began to trickle home, once more " to sleep in their own little rooms again ", just as Vera Lynn had predicted,
In Stewarton a welcome home fund was inaugurated by the Town Council; subsequently on demobilisation each man and woman who had served in the forces or merchant navy, and the next of kin of those who did not return, received the sum of twelve pounds; it was a very fine gesture indeed. Altogether a total of £5,112 was distributed, with a balance of £242 left over for memorial maintenance.
It all happened a long time ago and while no one wishes to live in the past it is quite pleasurable, just occasionally, to look back and remember.

Robert Burns put it this way—

If I have managed to waken a few memories the purpose of this article has been fulfilled.