Those Were The Games
Nightmare On Holker Street
Published by Eccles on October 8, 2009
Barrow v Gillingham – October 9th 1961
In 1957/58 the Football League announced its first major structural changes since 1920 and 1921 when the two Third Divisions had been introduced. The 48 clubs comprising the Third Divisions North and South were to be regrouped into a Third Division and a Fourth Division. There would be four clubs promoted and relegated between the two new divisions each season, and the four lowest clubs would need to be re-elected to the Fourth Division. From the Third Division two clubs would be promoted/relegated to the Second Division each season, to match the two clubs already being promoted/relegated between the Second Division and the First.
It meant that for small clubs like Gillingham, over time there was now a much clearer ladder into the top flight (which clubs like Northampton, Carlisle and Leyton Orient climbed) but equally for the previous giants it could mean a fall right through into the Fourth Division (suffered by the likes of Burnley, Wolverhampton and Bolton). But in 1957 all that was for the future. Initially the target was to finish in the top twelve of the Third Division North or South in 1958 and effectively be promoted.
Gillingham never made much of a fist of their try. Despite having one of our charismatic centre-forwards in Ron Saunders, who scored 18 league goals in the 1957/58 season the team never got above the nether regions, and finished 22nd. Even two goal gales in the FA Cup (see Part 26) didn’t relieve the depression for long. The directors countered by going down the traditional route of replacing the manager. In late November long-serving Archie Clark was kicked upstairs by being offered a new post of Administrative Manager (from which he was made redundant in August 1958) and replaced by Harry Barratt, manager of Snowdown Colliery. Barratt’s style was unique (like stating he would jump in the Trent if Gills beat Nottingham Forest in the FA Cup, or stating his intention to sign 11 six-foot Texans) but it didn’t deliver the Third Division place craved and for the start of the 1958/59 season Gillingham found themselves in football’s new basement.
The eleven other Third Division (South) clubs that went with them were Northampton, Crystal Palace, Port Vale, Watford, Shrewsbury, Aldershot, Coventry, Walsall, Torquay, Millwall and Exeter. In theory the idea was that with four up and four down the mix of north and south clubs in the two new divisions would stay roughly the same. It didn’t work out like that. The Southern clubs tended to be stronger and get promoted, whereas the northern clubs tended to get relegated. By 1961 there were only five clubs south of Mansfield left in the Fourth Division – Gillingham, Millwall, Colchester, Aldershot and Exeter – and even Exeter was a 400 mile round trip. The nineteen other clubs were even further away, making Gills’ travelling not only expensive but, on the steam trains of that time, long and tedious.
Escalating travel costs, and the additional potential costs of staying overnight before a game, weren’t the only budget time bomb that new Chairman Doctor Clifford Grossmark and his board were grappling with. Gates were falling. Football’s post-war boom was well and truly over. People had more money and more leisure time, and they weren’t using it for football. Biggest of all, the maximum wage had been removed in March 1961 following the threat of a players’ strike if it wasn’t. Clubs could now pay their players what they wanted. Fulham and England captain Johnny Haynes immediately became the first £100 a week footballer, and although Gillingham could nowhere near afford that sort of money they were going to have to cough something up if they were to compete for the better players.
It meant that season 1961/62 started with what became the almost standard dire warnings that football clubs would go to the wall, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that Gillingham could soon be one of them. The almost clinically depressive Doctor Grossmark saw to that. And worryingly Gills made their worst-ever start to a season. A 2-2 home draw with Doncaster Rovers was followed by nine consecutive defeats. Every few days Gillingham seemed to be tracking north to places like Crewe, Workington and Rochdale and getting a thrashing.
Something had to be done and fast, and from somewhere money was found to buy experienced centre forward Tom Johnston for Leyton Orient, and inside-forward Ronnie Waldock from Middlebrough. Together with charismatic forward Charlie Livesey, who had been signed pre-season from Chelsea, things started to improve. The record-breaking early-season slump was lifted at Priestfield with a 3-1 win over Millwall and there were two more home wins to follow against Barrow and Bradford City. By Saturday night October 7th Gills, with their three home wins and a draw, had seven points from their fourteen games, and has lifted themselves up to 22nd place. Not brilliant by any means, but a recovery had been launched.
The downside was that the seven away games had converted to seven defeats, and although a commendable eight goals had been scored, 26 had been conceded. Next up, on Monday 9th October, was an away game at Barrow.
Even today with an extensive national motorway network Barrow, on a peninsula on Lancashire’s north-west coast, is not easy to get to from north Kent. In 1961 with no M25, M1 or M6 the only realistic way was by train, and to make the 5.15pm kick-off the only Monday train that would get there was the 10.00am from Euston. Barrow were one of only a handful of clubs (Gillingham being another) who had no floodlights. The sensible way to make the trip would be to travel up on Sunday, staying somewhere overnight, and return after the game on an overnight train with sleeping accommodation.
But the club couldn’t afford all that, so the decision was made to travel up on Monday, by catching the only train available (10.00am from Euston). That might have worked had not the further decision been taken to go to Euston by coach, rather than by train to Victoria. Inevitably, the coach got stuck in morning rush-hour traffic around New Cross, and by the time it arrived at Euston around 10.20am the train had left.
The club were now in deep trouble. They faced being guilty of the cardinal sin of not turning up for a fixture. No later train would make it by kick-off, and the coach would take the best part of eight hours (assuming it had the oomph to get there, which was doubtful). A frantic phone call was made to Chairman Doctor Grossmark, who was in the middle of his morning surgery. In between dispensing aspirins and suppositories he telephoned the Football League Headquarters at Lytham St Annes asking for a postponement. It was refused.
It was now apparent that the only way that the team could make it to Barrow by 5.15pm was to fly to somewhere close-by and complete the journey by road. The coach drove to London Airport (now Heathrow) as fast as it could. However, internal flights were in their infancy. The daily flights to Manchester and Newcastle were fully booked, and although the whole team could have been accommodated on a flight to the Isle of Man, they would have had to swim across to Barrow. The only possibility was to charter an aeroplane, and land it at the closest commercial airfield, which was Blackpool.
But there were no charter planes available at London Airport. There were some at Gatwick or at Southend. Gatwick was nearer, but with no M25 that was probably a trip of well over an hour. The decision was taken to fly the chartered plane from Gatwick to London Airport, collect the team and then fly on to Blackpool – increasing the charter costs from £350 to £500. And talking of costs, the charter company weren’t going anywhere until they’d been paid. Well before the days of flashing a credit card, further frantic phone calls were made to Doctor Grossmark’s surgery for him to instruct the bankers to issue a bankers’ draft to cover the costs of the plane, insurances and warranties. Finally all was in place, and the chartered plane took off from Gatwick at 1.15pm. Four hours to Barrow seemed comfortable.
Fifteen minutes later AirGFC-1 arrived at London Airport, only for the pilot to overshoot the runway, make another pass, and then get back into the landing queue for a third time before eventually touching down at 2.00pm. But it wasn’t just everyone piling in and off we go. London Airport insisted on making safety checks on what, to them, was an unknown plane. The Football League had to be involved too. A little known legacy from the Munich Air Tragedy of 1958 was that the Football League had to give special permission whenever a league club transported its players by air. That took up more time, but eventually the players and back-room staff were airborne at 2.35pm en route to Blackpool.
AirGFC-1 was only a 25 seater single propeller and it hit turbulence around Birmingham. A number of the players had never flown before (continental package holidays were still a few years away), and they needed to make liberal use of the barff bags. With a number of passengers looking the worse for wear, AirGFC-1 landed at Blackpool’s Squires Gate airfield at 3.25pm. After the unloading formalities were completed the party were ready to make the 71 mile journey to Barrow. There were only ninety minutes to kick-off.
At this point, the club did get some support from the Football League, after what appeared to be an intransigent attitude all day. From their Headquarters down the road in Lytham they had laid on a coach ready to make the trip. But it was felt that the journey could not be completed in that time by coach, so four taxis and a police escort were preferred as being speedier. Football League Secretary Alan Hardaker had given a dispensation that kick-off could be put back to 5.30pm, and half-time cancelled, so that the game could be completed before darkness fell.
As the team raced around Morecambe Bay in their taxis and with police escort, news of these incredible goings on was filtering back to Gills’ fans. Some thought it was hilarious, some were embarrassed, and some were angry that the club could have got itself into such a position in what is a basic requirement – showing up for a game. But everyone was fearful of what the League might do about it. The rule said “The Football League have full authority in deciding whether the game is to be void, replayed or to instruct the result to stand. The Management Committee can impose a fine up to £500 and in addition inflict further penalties at their discretion.” In other words they could do as they liked – deduct points, or if we’d really jarred them off, kick us out.
As the consequences were being mulled over, the club’s embarrassment was far from over. The taxis had hit heavy traffic around Lancaster after some of the roads had become flooded following a torrential autumn downpour. The bedraggled cavalcade finally arrived at Barrow’s Holker Street ground just after 5.30pm, to the ironic cheers and claps of the local faithful. News of Gillingham’s “difficulties” had got around. It was by no means clear that the game would take place at all and so the gates had not been opened. The game eventually kicked off just after 5.45pm, 30 minutes later than originally intended and 15 minutes later than the Football League extension. There was drizzle in the air, and the light was already beginning to fade.
Our team was:
(2-3-5) Johnny Simpson; Dennis Hunt, Bill Cockburn; Leon Vaessen, Harry Hughes (Capt), Alec Farrall; John Jervis, Charlie Livesey, Tom Johnston, Bob Ridley, Gordon Pulley.
Gillingham had played Barrow at Priestfield the previous midweek and come away with a hard-fought 3-2 win. Barrow had shown that they played some neat football, but how much of what befell Gillingham was down to Barrow being a decent side and how much was due to Gill’s unique “preparation” can never be determined. All that can be said is that if the events so far that day had been bad enough, it was going to get worse.
Within two minutes Barrow were ahead. They moved the ball around from the off, inside-left Gordon Brown was unmarked, and he had no trouble putting the ball past Johnny Simpson. The 2,900 crowd loved it, and Barrow were straight away on the attack again. Simpson was being clattered about as the Barrow front trio piled in on raking centres from deep, and after ten minutes inside-right Robertson bundled in the second.
Gillingham at last started to shake off the effects of their horrendous journey and Charlie Livesey relieved the pressure with one of his trademark solo runs. But it came to nothing, Barrow were pouring forward again, and right winger John Kemp cut in and drove a cross-shot under Simpson’s dive.
3-0 with only twenty minutes gone, and Gillingham were looking lined up for a serious hammering. Fortunately Barrow eased down a little, which enabled Dennis Hunt, Harry Hughes and Alec Farrall to get some sort of grip in defence and midfield to stem the tide. Farrell’s promptings enabled Gordon Pulley in to loose off a couple of cannonballs as Gills had their best spell of the game.
So far captain Harry Hughes had kept Barrow centre-forward George Darwin quiet, but after 35 minutes he was out-jumped for a corner and the Barrow man soared a header into the net, landing on Johnny Simpson’s leg on his way back to earth. Just what Gillingham needed – an injured goalkeeper, and Johnny was hobbling badly when Darwin brushed off challenges by Hughes and Cockburn and drilled in Barrow’s fifth two minutes before half-time.
Turning half-past six and it was beginning to get quite murky. The plan was to turn straight around for the second half, but the referee allowed time while Johnny Simpson’s leg was strapped up. He stoically carried on. Regrettably, he got little cover from the defence in front of him, and was helpless as Darwin ploughed through the middle again and completed his hat-trick with a low shot. 6-0 and there were still 40 minutes left.
But daylight was rapidly fading as it started to drizzle again, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that with no floodlights the game was unlikely to finish. The referee did his best to hurry things up at dead-ball situations in an attempt to get a reasonable amount of football in, and it seemed to disturb Barrow’s rhythm. They had a noticeable bout of misplaced passes and kicking the ball into touch. Gillingham seemed to be able to see better, and carved out a superb move between Alec Farrall, Charlie Livesey and Tom Johnston to set up Bob Ridley to chip the ball over goalkeeper Caine and into the net. But a linesman thought he saw something illegal in the build-up and chalked it off.
Barrow had a small set of training lights around the pitch, and after 74 minutes the referee ordered them switched on in the hope that they would provide enough light to complete the game. They certainly helped Barrow, for in the eerie twilight they scored again when inside forward Kemp hit a shot past Johnny Simpson that he said afterwards he never saw. The training lights were having little effect as darkness closed in, and after 76 minutes the referee was forced to abandon the game with the scoreline Barrow 7, Gillingham 0.
It was Gillingham’s biggest thrashing since the 9-2 at Nottingham in 1950 (see Part 22) and it would be another 47 years before a similar scoreline was endured. But would the result stand? No Football League game had failed to be completed before, so would the League order a replay? That was a bit unfair on Barrow, and if Gillingham couldn’t afford to travel there once, could they do so again? The cumbersome arrangements of travelling by train on the day to save money had backfired badly. In the event the whole trip had cost the club over £1,000, setting aside any fines that the Football League might impose.
In the event the Football League were lenient. Two months later, on December 11th, they announced that they would take no further action against Gillingham, but the 7-0 scoreline when the game was abandoned after 76 minutes would stand. It was the first time that an uncompleted game had been ruled to be the final result. The League also said that they had considered ordering the game to be replayed, but “this would involve the visiting club further expense” – thereby acknowledging Gillingham’s embarrassment that they couldn’t afford to turn up. But if the club kept their head down, maybe their red faces wouldn’t show too much.
Certainly there were no problems returning from Barrow at the end of that fateful day. The original plans to catch the overnight train worked satisfactorily and the team arrived back in Gillingham early Tuesday morning. Almost incredibly they had to make an even longer trip four days later – to Carlisle. This time the club realised that they dare not arrive late again, so travelled to Cumbria on Friday after training. It worked. They recorded their first away win of the season, 2-1.
But if the club hoped that the Football League’s announcement on December 11th closed a humiliating and embarrassing episode they were mistaken. The very next game, on Saturday December 16th 1961, was away to Doncaster Rovers. A reasonable journey on Saturday morning on one of the numerous express trains leaving Kings Cross. Only on this particular Saturday there had been a major derailment overnight at Peterborough, and trains were being cancelled or re-routed.
The club’s planned train, due to arrive at Doncaster at 1.30pm for a 3.00pm kick-off had been cancelled. Somewhere someone pulled some strings enabling the team to travel on the earlier leaving Flying Scotsman. Normally the first stop would be Newcastle, but the express would make an unscheduled first stop at Doncaster so that the team could get off. Unfortunately the Scotsman wasn’t very flying. It was diverted through rural lines in Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire and arrived at Doncaster two hours late – at five minutes past three.
Yet again, a fleet of taxis were waiting to whisk the team to the ground. Fortunately Belle Vue was not 71 miles away but just up the road, and the game eventually kicked off just after 3.30pm. Unlike Holker Street there were floodlights, so the game was played to a finish. Gills seemed to be raring to get out of the traps, and in a brilliant first twenty minutes Ronnie Waldock put them ahead. But Donny hit back with goals either side of half-time and ran out 2-1 winners.
Gills fans had not been aware of any of this until our result became the only one missing in the Grandstand round-up. And then David Coleman delivered the hammer blow “Well, Gillingham arrived late for that match” and the rest of it was drowned in shame. Not again – surely.
The events surrounding the lateness at Doncaster were understandable, and once again the Football League invoked no penalties. But you had to ask if the disruption was significant, why was it only Gillingham who had arrived late for their game? With the Barrow fiasco, were their shambolic arrangements proof that they were not viable as a Football League club? Clubs were continually bleating about no money for ground improvements, floodlighting, players wages, travelling expenses and so forth. Shouldn’t they cut their cloth accordingly, resign from the Football League, and go part-time?
And no prizes for guessing which club was first to be pointed at. The Daily Express started the ball rolling in its “Fans Forum” the following Friday. The question was “Should Gillingham remain a League Club?” The page of some 20 letters remains one of the most humiliating ever published. They were queuing up to rip in. “If Gillingham cannot pay their way they should get out” said one. “My Sunday side turns up for its games. This so-called professional outfit should hang its head in shame.” Even so-called Gills’ fans were lining up. “How much more embarrassment do we have to take before the Board realise that we would be better off back in the Southern League?” And then there was the Chairman of ambitious Southern League outfit Oxford United claiming our place for his own “We can pay our way, unlike Gillingham. My club stands ready at any time to take Gillingham’s place.” Just one correspondent stood by us in our agony – a Walsall fan who wrote “Lay off Gillingham. They wouldn’t be the first club to get up from the floor and win promotion.”
Two years later he was proved right (see Part 33) but before that our future hung by a thread. We simply had to avoid finishing in the bottom four and applying for re-election as Oxford United would be rubbishing us for sure. The pre-Christmas revival petered out and after a patchy New Year we plodded into 20th position. But we were safe, because in March 1962 Accrington Stanley ran out of money and resigned from the Football League. Ambitious Oxford United took their place instead. Satisfyingly Gills paid their chairman back for his boastful remarks by doing the double over them the following season and in the process becoming the first Football League side to beat them at home. And by a strange twist of fate Accrington recaptured their Football League place 44 years later as Oxford were dumped back into the Conference.
But all that was for the future. In late 1961 the nightmare on Holker Street felt like seven hot daggers to the heart of the club.
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