Tales from Grandad's Tool Shed
We Had Some Great Players, Honest – 1919 to 1934
Published by Eccles on January 3, 2008
The afternoons were getting short, and there was not much gardening to do. I found Grandad at his work-bench making a small wooden box. “Thought I’d get my photo-collection into some sort of order SunBoy and put them in this box rather than the envelopes and wallets. I’ve got the box on the table over there for the team photos, and this one I’m making will be for the individuals.”
His photo envelopes were laying on top of his football-treasures chest, and I picked them up and started looking through them. I was looking at the ones marked 1920/30 and holding the picture of a tall elegant man with hair strikingly parted on the left and swept across his head in an extravagant natural wave when he wandered over. “Picked out one of the best there SunBoy – Jock Robertson”. I remembered that Jock had spoken with great eloquence at the crisis meeting in late 1931, and seeing his picture I could see exactly why it had made such an impression on all those present. “He was our captain. Played right back. Born in Chatham, and lived locally all his life. He joined us when he was demobbed in 1919, and played his last game for us in October 1932. 358 league appearances, which was a club record until Johnny Simpson surpassed it in the 1965/66 season. He was the first to congratulate Johnny, which was typical of the man. Jock was a true gentleman and a Gillingham legend, without question.
“Anyway I think the best thing is for me to sort these into some sort of date order, so we know where we are.” It was like watching him playing patience as he examined each photo and put them on one or other pile on the table. Some he knew immediately, they would be the greats, or his personal favourites, others he had to hesitate a bit. But he could remember them all, no question.
He picked up a photo of a stocky man with jet black hair parted in the middle. “Now, this one is ‘Mother’ Wood. Bit cruel to call him that I suppose, his real name was Arthur. He was a centre-forward and joined us from Fulham in 1919. He wouldn’t head the ball, so some wag dubbed him ‘Mother’ and it stuck. Shows the mentality of people round here I suppose, but they didn’t boo him. Blimey, he was top goalscorer in 1919/20. He was a great bloke, and played up to his nick-name a bit. The reason he never headed the ball was because he had a metal plate in his head, which had been inserted after he had been injured in the Great War. Like all of us he just felt relieved that he’d made it through. He stayed with us for three seasons and then went to Newport County in 1922.
“This one was one of our early favourites. Wally Battiste.” It was a photo of a small stocky man with black hair parted slightly to the left, then flopping down on both sides. I guessed Wally was a winger with an eye for goal. “Correct, SunBoy. He only got eight in 152 appearances, but he liked to cut in and hit them low and hard across the face of the goal. Most times they took a deflection or were half-cleared into someone’s path for them to be bundled in. He joined us when he was 28, from Grimsby. He played in the first ever League match, home to Southampton, and was the star of the show when we played Cardiff in the Cup in 1924. Once again the directors cashed him in, selling him to Millwall at the end if that season for £350, although to be fair he was near the end of his career so it wasn’t a bad price for the times.
“Look at this one Sunboy, he’s wearing a lace-up New Brompton shirt just like mine.” “But that’s not Charlie McGibbon” I said, looking at the slim thin-faced man with short dark well-groomed hair. “No, it’s Tommy Hall. Another stalwart who played in the first league match. We signed him from Newcastle to play inside-forward. Good steady goal-scorer was Tommy, 47 of ‘em in 190 appearances. Scored our first-ever hat-trick in a league match when we beat Norwich 5-2 at home in February 1922. The two fizzers he hit at the Cardiff keeper would have beaten most in the Third Division South, but not a Welsh International sadly. He packed up playing in 1926 and was appointed trainer under new manager Hoskins. He stayed until the early Thirties when he went back to the North East to run a pub.”
A photo of a tall plump-face man looked as though it could be a goalkeeper. “Oh yes SunBoy, arguably our greatest player because he was the only Gillingham player ever to be picked to play for England. Freddie Fox. A wonderful goalkeeper. He was our neighbour when we lived in Barnsole Road – we were at No 61, he was at No 47. He joined us from Preston in August 1922, and played 106 times. You remember the story when he took your dad into the dressing rooms before the cup tie with Cardiff to collect autographs. A thorough gentleman. He was picked to play for England against France in Paris in April 1925.” “Hang on a minute Grandad, you say ‘picked’. Didn’t he play? Was he injured or something?” He roared with laughter. “Injured? Christ, you don’t think Knight and his board would sit on a full-blown England International do you? They flogged him to Millwall for five hundred quid on the boat going over. Threw in outside right George Chance for the price as well. I’d have thrown THEM in, the Channel I mean, personally. So when he stood between the sticks in Paris it’s possible that he was a Millwall player. Depends where the paperwork had got to – so to avoid an argument always say ‘picked’. Makes you cry sometimes doesn’t it.”
I picked up a photo of a solemn looking man with a longish face, dark hair parted on the right and sweeping forward across his face, sitting cross-legged on the ground. “That’s D i c k Edmed. He was an outside right, one of the few players we’ve ever had who was actually born in Gillingham. Started to play in the first team in the back-end of 1923/24 when he was 20. Unheard of in those days to get into the team so young. He looked a brilliant prospect. Played 24 games, scored 7 goals, and then got sold to Liverpool in January 1926 for £1,800. He had a pretty distinguished career with them. ‘A new club record fee received’ oozed the directors, when in truth he’d been flogged off to pay the debts. Sound familiar? D i c k came back to us at the end of his career and played in a few wartime friendlies, and was reserve team trainer after the War. He stayed in Gillingham for the rest of his life.”
Then a photo of a tall, angular man with a shock of hair. “Doesn’t show on the photo that he had ginger hair. Centre-forward Jonah Wilcox, master goal-scorer. We signed him in August 1927 from Queens Park Rangers. He was nearly 34 and at the end of his career, but boy did he know where the goal was. He scored consistently throughout the season, shots and headers, and finished up with 25 league goals in the 1927/28 season. It was a club record and stood until 1954/55 when Ernie Morgan broke it by getting 31 goals. Jonah was plagued with injuries the following season and only scored two goals from fourteen appearances and moved to Kidderminster Harriers at the end of it. One of my personal favourite players – everyone loves a goal-scorer don’t they?”
Next was a tall well-built man, with thinning hair. “Ah! Someone a bit unique. Centre-half Albert Collins who was, wait for it, a record SIGNING! This was at the start of the 1929/30. The directors had just appointed D i c k Hendrie as manager and incredibly gave him some money to spend. He bought in a lot of players and paid Millwall £250 for Albert. Hendrie wasn’t very successful in his transfer dealings, one of the main reasons why he got the sack, but he picked a winner with Albert. He played the last five years of his career with us, 170 league games and scored four goals, bullet headers from corners as I remember.”
And then there was a photograph of a stocky young inside-forward, short hair swept back in the fashion of the time. The Yorkshireman that we’d signed from Hull City in June 1932 looked every inch the tough, gritty player that Grandad had told me he was, who would score plenty of goals for the Gills. He said quietly “I’ve got a special frame for that one SunBoy, what do you think?” He produced a beautifully crafted ebony frame, with some white beading to reflect the club colours. “I think that will be just fine, Grandad, I really do.” He looked pleased, and slipped the photo into the frame and put it on the window sill. We were lost in our thoughts as the strong confident face looked back at us. The photo shouldn’t really have been in a tool shed, it should have been in some special place at Priestfield, in memory of the most tragic day in the history of Gillingham Football Club.
(Next – The Price Of Glory)
Eccles
Tales from Grandad's Tool Shed
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