McAlpines fusiliers.

[jukel123 7,957]

The title is a song by the Dubliners it talks about the back breaking work and the hard drinking of Irishmen working in the UK. I was part of that world  for nearly 3 years in the sixties 

I was employed as a general groundworks labrador building the M62.

My ganger was a really hard man. He took one look at me when I arrived and said "Jesus who"s this f****n cowboy they've sent me? I think he was referring to my long hair and chip- on- the -shoulder manner.

As the weeks and months went by I began to really admire him, Meahall (spelling ) was his name. He was genuine leader of men and knew the game inside out. He had little time for bureaucrats . I can remember dozens of times when he sent them away with their tails between their legs. Just to give you a flavour,  one day we were rained off and playing cards in a tin shelter. Along comes a boss man with all the gravitas of a Matt Hancock, with a protective hat about three sizes too big for him and told Meahall to get us back to work. He didn't even look up from his cards and when Matt repeated his instruction. He replied slowly. "Get  -  out - of  - my sight". So he did. That attitude was quite common from him. I think he was unsackable because he was so savvy and experienced. I'd never seen anything like that before. In the 50s and 60 s people were very brow beaten and submissive. Inwardly I applauded him big time.

I fell out with him twice. He used to have a habit of sticking his dirty thumb in a pint of milk, drink the cream and then give us the rest of the bottle for our tea. I was feeling brave one day and suggested he was out of order. He smacked me with a back hander. Fortunately I dodged and he only hit my shoulder. So I dropped the issue and decided not to fire any more bullets for the rest of the guys.LOL Another time he gave me full size pneumatic drill to to take off some stray concrete from a 'biscuit' -the round piece on the top of a drain. His parting words were "don't f****n crack it'. Anyway I just about had it finished when damn me , I cracked it. He came back and went bananas. Again I was feeling brave, so I said "well give me the proper  f****n tool for the job! So he said "f**k off you're finished'. So I replied "good, I'm sick of you anyway". I went to get my gear from the hut and he shouted " Cowboy, here! and he threw me the keys for a dumper and said "go and get another biscuit and don't f****n crack it" So great, I had a nice hour in the sun tootling along the motorway to the store compound.

I leaned a lot from Meahall.... mostly pipe laying, which isn't as easy as it sounds. He taught me to drive, he let me  learn and practice on a JCB in my lunch hour and  he personally showed me how to drive a drott. Plus a dozen other building site skills. He wasn't much for praise, but he did grunt  approvingly now and again and a couple of times he said to more experienced pipe layers, "f**k me cowboy has a better feel for the job than you c**ts" Which was praise indeed.

When the job came to an end, about twenty of us agreed to have a farewell drink in Rochdale. It was quite momentous for me. I had a few hundred quid in my pocket. I had been looking after my kid sister, but she managed to get herself pregnant at 16 and went to live with her new husband's parents.( As it turned out she and her husband ended up worth megabucks as he was one of the first computer science graduates to hit the labour market). So I was free and going to London. I was 19 just short of 20. I  had no ties, was strong and fit and  I was full of confidence and optimism. 

 The evening went really well. we were all reminiscing (spelling?) and joking and singing. Just at last orders, one of the lads claimed he had ordered drinks but had not been given the drinks. The landlord wasn't for changing his mind, so my mate went behind the bar to serve himself. Pretty soon a wild west scene had erupted. Some of the regulars joined forces with the landlord and a  genuine riot ensued. Think flying bottles and chairs and people rolling around the floor. The police arrived and tried to contain us in the pub until reinforcements arrived. But we broke out into the street and the cops took to their heels. We were celebrating our victory when probably 7 or 8 cop cars arrived and the occupants charged at us like we were striking miners. I remember a lot of rolling around. I also found a copper's helmet which in my drunken state I decided to keep as a  trophy. I kept them both for years. But I got rid of it when we had kids, I didn't want them asking questions. I didn't want them to be an idiot like me. It was an excellent night. Goodbyes, adrenalin and a belly full of firewater.

At some point in the evening Meahall gave me a telephone number to a job he was going to in Birmingham and told me to ask for him and he would give me a start. But I didn't fancy swapping Rochdale for Brum. That would be one shithole for another. I was really proud, like it was a step into the  adult world. Men didn't hug or show affection in those days, but I remember a lot of emotion and shaking of hands. So thus ended my stint as a McAlpine fusilier.

Edited August 14 by jukel123

[Daniel cain 44,902]

Worked on the ground for a company ran by an Irish Family for 12 yrs...The main man was known as 'The Bull'..Rip Mr O'Connor,his 2 sons Johny and Mikey were contract managers,Hard,but fair...every ganger was a Paddy only way you could climb the ladder lol,they only trusted their own...worked you hard for your money,was there every thursday 3 o'clock without fail...they all liked a few pints ...loved working for them tbh,if you had words or  a dust up,you shook hands,it was forgotten and you got on with it,not like working with all the fairies these days

[WILF 46,485]

55 minutes ago, jukel123 said:

The title is a song by the Dubliners it talks about the back breaking work and the hard drinking of Irishmen working in the UK. I was part of that world for just for nearly 3 years in the sixties 

I was employed as a general groundworks labrador building the M62.

My ganger was a really hard man. He took one look at me when I arrived and said "Jesus who"s this f****n cowboy they've sent me? I think he was referring to my long hair and chip- on- the -shoulder manner.

As the weeks and months went by I began to really admire him, Meahall (spelling ) was his name. He was genuine leader of men and knew the game inside out. He had little time for bureaucrats . I can remember dozens of times when he sent them away with their tails between their legs. Just to give you a flavour,  one day we were rained off and playing cards in a tin shelter. Along comes a boss man with all the gravitas of a Matt Hancock, with a protective hat about three sizes too big for him and told Meahall to get us back to work. He didn't even look up from his cards and when Matt repeated his instruction. He replied slowly. "Get  -  out - of  - my sight". So he did. That attitude was quite common from him. I think he was unsackable because he was so savvy and experienced. I'd never seen anything like that before. In the 50s and 60 s people were very brow beaten and submissive. Inwardly I applauded him big time.

I fell out with him twice. He used to have a habit of sticking his dirty thumb in a pint of milk, drink the cream and then give us the rest of the bottle for our tea. I was feeling brave one day and suggested he was out of order. He smacked me with a back hander. Fortunately I dodged and he only hit my shoulder. So I dropped the issue and decided not to fire any more bullets for the rest of the guys.LOL Another time he gave me full size pneumatic drill to to take off some stray concrete from a 'biscuit' -the round piece on the top of a drain. His parting words were "don't f****n crack it'. Anyway I just about had it finished when damn me , I cracked it. He came back and went bananas. Again I was feeling brave, so I said "well give me the proper  f****n tool for the job! So he said "f**k off you're finished'. So I replied "good, I'm sick of you anyway". I went to get my gear from the hut and he shouted " Cowboy, here! and he threw me the keys for a dumper and said "go and get another biscuit and don't f****n crack it" So great, I had a nice hour in the sun tootling along the motorway to the store compound.

I leaned a lot from Meahall.... mostly pipe laying, which isn't as easy as it sounds. He taught me to drive, he let me  learn and practice on a JCB in my lunch hour and  he personally showed me how to drive a drott. Plus a dozen other building site skills. He wasn't much for praise, but he did grunt  approvingly now and again and a couple of times he said to more experienced pipe layers, "f**k me cowboy has a better feel for the job than you c**ts" Which was praise indeed.

When the job came to an end, about twenty of us agreed to have a farewell drink in Rochdale. It was quite momentous for me. I had a few hundred quid in my pocket. I had been looking after my kid sister, but she managed to get herself pregnant at 16 and went to live with her new husband's parents.( As it turned out she and her husband ended up worth megabucks as he was one of the first computer science graduates to hit the labour market). So I was free and going to London. I was 19 just short of 20. I  had no ties, was strong and fit and  I was full of confidence and optimism. 

 The evening went really well. we were all reminiscing (spelling?) and joking and singing. Just at last orders, one of the lads claimed he had ordered drinks but had not been given the drinks. The landlord wasn't for changing his mind, so my mate went behind the bar to serve himself. Pretty soon a wild west scene had erupted. Some of the regulars joined forces with the landlord and a  genuine riot ensued. Think flying bottles and chairs and people rolling around the floor. The police arrived and tried to contain us in the pub until reinforcements arrived. But we broke out into the street and the cops took to their heels. We were celebrating our victory when probably 7 or 8 cop cars arrived and the occupants charged at us like we were striking miners. I remember a lot of rolling around and grabbing a baton off a cop . I also found a copper's helmet which in my drunken state I decided to keep as another  trophy. I kept them both for years. But I got rid of them when we had kids, I didn't want them asking questions. I didn't want them to be an idiot like me. It was an excellent night. Goodbyes, adrenalin and a belly full of firewater.

At some point in the evening Meahall gave me a telephone number to a job he was going to in Birmingham and told me to ask for him and he would give me a start. But I didn't fancy swapping Rochdale for Brum. That would be one shithole for another. I was really proud, like it was a step into the  adult world. Men didn't hug or show affection in those days, but I remember a lot of emotion and shaking of hands. So thus ended my stint as a McAlpine fusilier.

Cracking story that mate, good man for sharing. 

[mC HULL 12,074]

13 minutes ago, WILF said:

Cracking story that mate, good man for sharing. 

i enjoyed the read 

[waltjnr 6,520]

1 hour ago, Daniel cain said:

Worked on the ground for a company ran by an Irish Family for 12 yrs...The main man was known as 'The Bull'..Rip Mr O'Connor,his 2 sons Johny and Mikey were contract managers,Hard,but fair...every ganger was a Paddy only way you could climb the ladder lol,they only trusted their own...worked you hard for your money,was there every thursday 3 o'clock without fail...they all liked a few pints ...loved working for them tbh,if you had words or  a dust up,you shook hands,it was forgotten and you got on with it,not like working with all the fairies these days

Unfortunately them days long gone ,the irish ground workers I worked with 30 years ago ,old boys then ,were another level ,some great memories Kilburn, Cricklewood, going for guiness and salt beef sandwiches at smithfield Market 7am ,great memories, good ole boys !

[waltjnr 6,520]

Just now, waltjnr said:

Unfortunately them days long gone ,the irish ground workers I worked with 30 years ago ,old boys then ,were another level ,some great memories Kilburn, Cricklewood, going for guiness and salt beef sandwiches at smithfield Market 7am ,great memories, good ole boys !

And grafters ! 

[paulus 26]

My old man worked as for McAlpine's when they built the M69 in the mid 1970`s, He was in charge of booking all the plant operating times for the main plant sub contractors. My elder brother who was born with learning difficulties had just left school, One of the concrete gangs doing the bridges took a shine to him when he was accompanying the old man on his rounds in the landy. They persuaded my old man to let him work for them, To say they looked after him was an understatement. They soon had him driving tractors collecting the ply shuttering and burning it. best 2 years of his working life he says. 

[mackem 25,979]

5 minutes ago, waltjnr said:

Unfortunately them days long gone ,the irish ground workers I worked with 30 years ago ,old boys then ,were another level ,some great memories Kilburn, Cricklewood, going for guiness and salt beef sandwiches at smithfield Market 7am ,great memories, good ole boys !

Cashing your check in McGinleys in Kilburn on Friday night?I worked on the Isle of Dogs,Irish guy called Dave proper strong bloke,I remember he asked did I want to go out for a drink after work,I never drank so he went on his own,next morning I got in the works cabin nice and early there was Dave kipping on a pile of coats on the floor,he had vomited and pissed himself and if I had struck a match the alcohol fumes would have ignited the cabin,he washed his face had a cup of tea and put in a shift,no getting changed or anything.The good old days.

[waltjnr 6,520]

The national on paddy's night ! ,see the wolftones there ,brilliant nights! And almost zero agg ,

[waltjnr 6,520]

Biddy mulligans, the paper sold and collection glass passed round ,not my fondest memory of County Kilburn 

[eastcoast 4,078]

McAlpine's men came over the hill

like a troop of Bengal Lancers

1 in 10 has served his time

the rest are a bunch of f***ing chancers

 

 

[jukel123 7,957]

58 minutes ago, eastcoast said:

McAlpine's men came over the hill

like a troop of Bengal Lancers

1 in 10 has served his time

the rest are a bunch of f***ing chancers

 

 

How very dare you! Heres the lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEk37t4LWp0

[mackem 25,979]

8 minutes ago, jukel123 said:

How very dare you! Heres the lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEk37t4LWp0

 

[eastcoast 4,078]

Going off on a tangent but in keeping with current discussion here on other threads... coincidentally I worked on a Sir Robert McAlpine job fairly recently. Mental Health is a big thing in construction now. All the guidence, all the tool box talks, all the nice people (mostly happy smiley young women) who offer support. Great stuff, we need to do more to stop men working in construction topping themselves. The senior Project Manager on the last SRM job called me to one side before a meeting and told me that he is  now one of several Mental Health 1st Aiders on the project. He said it was a good thing, but he would feel a bit of a hypocrite giving advice as he struggles getting out of bed in the morning and resisting the temptation to jump off the Tyne bridge most days  

[jukel123 7,957]

11 minutes ago, eastcoast said:

Going off on a tangent but in keeping with current discussion here on other threads... coincidentally I worked on a Sir Robert McAlpine job fairly recently. Mental Health is a big thing in construction now. All the guidence, all the tool box talks, all the nice people (mostly happy smiley young women) who offer support. Great stuff, we need to do more to stop men working in construction topping themselves. The senior Project Manager on the last SRM job called me to one side before a meeting and told me that he is  now one of several Mental Health 1st Aiders on the project. He said it was a good thing, but he would feel a bit of a hypocrite giving advice as he struggles getting out of bed in the morning and resisting the temptation to jump off the Tyne bridge most days  

Weird! In my day you wiped your arse on empty concrete bags...no facilities of any kind. Health and Safety was non existent. But I dont agree the new approach is just wokery.  I'm all for treating people decently.