KIDS ON THE BLOCK
When my parents died I guess I drifted about the inner city with people I didn't really
know or care much about. I say that because the feelings were mutual. Family obligation they called it, but maybe it was 'make use of' earn your keep the hard way
and think yourself lucky. Sure, I have no violin for that, most of my friends on those
mean streets were in the same boat with a family or not. Housing was in short supply
so that many overcrowding; mother and father and their parents, uncles and aunts,
all sharing a couple of rooms in a street that went on forever. The street of thousands
I called them. So, it was quite common that when we left the school gates we just hung around the streets which was our recreation ground. The 'rec' had everything.
Discarded old cars and bikes and pushchairs and plenty of tyres and old rope to
hitch up to the lampost and swing about all night long. Most of my early days was
spent on those streets mostly during the cold months when coal was in short supply.
We kept warm by improvising the imaginatin. Money was scarce. Running errands
all week for the neighbours usually brought in a few coins to get into the cinema....
the saturday matinee we called it. It was there that I became a great fan of the
american. Cowboy and gangsters was what we were allowed to see. For us kids
it was a great place to find our heroes and build our own characters. We all went in
the cinemas wild and wicked but when we came out we all stood tall and dignified
mimicing those great actors in the cellulide. Cagney, Bogart, Raft and many more
became our regular family and seemed more real to me than those I lived with
from one day to another. later, these films were called Film Noir and fondly i still
watch them today. The films were a balance of darkness and light and came across
as moody and atmospheric. The Third Man was a great example. Suspense and
mystery and intrigue mixed with evocative and enigmatic shadow on a big screen
drew you in. When I see those clips today or when I see those black and white
photographs I think about all my friends, row upon row, in the late evenings, often
poorly dressed and under nourished, feet up on the back of someone else's seat;
totally absorbed in the old church, come cinema, content in the near dark.
We all lived on Gum street. When asked what most were going to do in life, they
would reply.....nothing! I am stuck on Gum street!