Perhaps it’s just part of looking back.
Perhaps it was because I then lived a long way from the action. Whatever the reason, those
early seasons have now become woven into their backcloth; the big events, the films and
the pop songs of the time. In 1960, the weather was part of that piece, too. Rain and mud
still saturate those distant images. For October 1960 was a very wet month. So was
November. In fact, that autumn was one of the wettest on record. A succession of Atlantic
fronts buffeted and soaked Britain, flooding fields, roads and railway lines and
temporarily cutting off villages. In the south, steam locomotives were restored on a
number of electrified routes where floodwaters had surged over the third rails. But these
were small setbacks compared to what East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) had to put up with.
There, a tidal wave consigned thousands to a watery death.
There was little sign of a thaw in the cold war. Certainly, the
Soviets were in sabre-rattling mode. At the November Red Square they paraded their
missiles for the first time. This came just one month after the Queen had launched
Dreadnought, Britain’s first nuclear submarine. But we seemed equally concerned about
the enemy within. George Blake’s conviction and the previous defections of Burgess
and Maclean hadn't helped. John Le Carre's convoluted plots of chilly mistrust seem to
encapsulate the insecurities of the time.
But there were much more interesting things happening than national
security frights. The Lady Chatterley obscenity trial was one such thing. I was amused by
the fuss caused when the trial judge directed the jury to read the book, for we’d
already done so. Our battered and conveniently marked edition had quickly done its rounds,
disguised in a French textbook cover. Prosecuting barrister Mr Mervyn Griffiths-Jones
asked anachronistically, "Is it a book you would wish your wife or servant to
read?" Maybe not, but it was excellent for sex-starved adolescents. Anyway, common
sense prevailed. Penguin Books were acquitted and proceeded to sell their entire print run
on the first day of publication.
There’s nothing like a ban to maximise the commercial prospects
of shoddy products. Lawrence certainly should have been in the dock, but for offences
under the Drivel Act. There are a few others who’ve done very nicely out of
prohibitions, too. Stand up Max Romeo ('Wet Dream'), Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg ('Je
T'Aime... Moi Non Plus'), Frankie Goes To Hollywood ('Relax') and the dozy BBC, too, for
making their success possible.
Next to football, cinema was my great love. With so many local
postponements in that season, I spent a lot of time at the pictures. But under increasing
competition from television, cinema audiences were declining. Nevertheless, in 1960, most
towns of average size, like mine, still had several picture houses. Among the films being
shown at that time was Stanley Kubrick's gladiatorial epic 'Spartacus'. Despite its
mawkish ending this is still a fine film, quite unlike Otto Preminger's 'Exodus', which I
once had to endure in ‘compensation’ for yet another postponed game. This
romanticised Zionist account of the birth of modern Israel is just mush for misty-eyed
American Jews. Presumably, it hasn't gone down so well in the West Bank video stores.
Outside my field of vision, Hitchcock's overblown 'Psycho' ("Mother's not quite
herself today." Oh, really?) was also doing the circuit, as was the sharply satirical
'The Apartment'. I remember blowing some of my savings on John Wayne's 'The Alamo', on the
assumption that a bad Western is a contradiction in terms. I was about to find myself at
the base of a new learning curve.
I didn’t appreciate it at the time, of course, but a new wave
was beginning to break over the British cinema. This followed on from the shake-up in the
theatre, post 'Look Back In Anger'. Working class had become the height of cool. Albert
Finney, from Salford, epitomised this, notably in the philandering factory worker's tale
'Saturday Night and Sunday Morning'. It was one among many gritty cinematic examinations
of British working class life including 'A Taste of Honey', 'A Kind of Loving', 'The
L-Shaped Room' and 'This Sporting Life'. Unfortunately, they all had X certificates.
In hindsight, these films didn't hark back to any proletariat golden
age. There was no glorification of back-to-backs, cobbled streets, outside lavvies,
pigeons in lofts or whippets in sculleries, no trumpeting of austere council estates,
pre-fabs, smoky pubs and clubs and ‘honest graft’. The characters in these films
yearned and scrapped for something more prestigious, more prosperous. Just like Arthur
Seaton with his abrasive egocentricity and his wardrobe of suits; like John Braine's
ruthless social mountaineer, Joe Lampton, in 'Room at the Top'.
Pop music appeared to be dominated by a cluster of instrumentals in
1960, including 'Walk Don't Run', 'Because They're Young' and 'Never on A Sunday'.
'Apache', with its Hawaiian chords, headed the charts at the big kick off. But by the time
that Blackpool came to Turf Moor at end of October, the Big O's 'Only the Lonely' had
become number one. This game was significant to me as it yielded my first programme of the
season, helping bridge the 300 mile gap between my home and Turf Moor.
The programme for that Blackpool game cost 3d (i.e. around1p). Its
cover had a drawing of the League trophy in the top left hand corner (no expense spared),
but its glittering representation is so extreme that we could be talking nuclear fission.
Perhaps this helps to account for the preposterous proportions of the players in the drawn
aerial view of the ground. Here, the Burnley players appear to be huge and of a uniformly
apoplectic hue. Clearly, pre-match radiation is to be recommended. On the other hand, the
opposition appears to be in the final stages of hypothermia. With the match officials
daubed in Claret, Burnley sure knew how to make home advantage tell.
In line with this apocalyptic vision, a local coach and car-hire
company gave top billing to their funeral service, in one of the programme's adverts.
Interestingly, they prided themselves in having a motor hearse. Presumably, there was
still competition from the horse-drawn variety, or perhaps pallbearers really earned their
corn in 1960? Mind you, this firm considered that they covered themselves with credit by
owning 'all-weather coaches'. Puffing Billy, anyone?
In another advert, a self-proclaimed "leading family grocer of
the North" announced that "There's no bacon like…", reminding us that
egg and bacon was then a staple breakfast diet. Now, it's more like an occasional
indulgence on a weekend jaunt.
In his programme notes, Burnley manager Harry Potts wrote,
"What a weekend! And what a birthday present for me! Thank you, lads, for the VICTORY
gifts you gave me at Chelsea (6-2) and Cardiff (4-0 in the League Cup). I must mention Jim
Robson’s scoring feat – three goals in a match for the third time this season
– Jim McIlroy’s burst into the scoring headlines to complement his artistry,
Gordon Harris for his impressive contribution on one of his rare appearances as Brian
Pilkington’s deputy, the almost astonishing enterprise of Ray Pointer, from whom we
are accustomed to seeing so much energy, and the captaincy and performance of our skipper,
Jim Adamson. (At Cardiff we) found somewhat atrocious conditions owing to the heavy rain
that had fallen since Friday. It cut the ‘gate’ to half the figure that had been
expected, but did not affect our game and another great performance saw us into round
three (of the newly inaugurated League Cup). Once again it was a great team work that
earned us the progress, with three more reserves, Marshall, Scott and Fenton, having to be
called upon owing to McIlroy, Elder and Brian Miller being required for representative
matches on Wednesday. And for Gordon Harris, this was yet another game to remember, for he
became a three-goal man, and three grand efforts they were."
Harry had good reason to feel pleased with life as Burnley had risen
to third place after a shaky start to the season. They’d beaten Arsenal (3-2) in the
opening home match but then went wobbly. Dennis Law inspired Man. City as they exacted
full revenge (1-2 and 1-3) for the Clarets’ brace of victories in 1959/60. Newly
promoted Cardiff grabbed an unexpected victory at Turf Moor, too. But once into their
stride, Burnley took no prisoners. A Finney-less and downwardly mobile Preston were beaten
twice (5-0 and 3-2), and Fulham (5-0), Blackburn (4-1 at Ewood), Man Utd (5-3) and a
Greaves-inspired Chelsea (6-2 at Stamford Bridge) were all thrashed. Away victories were
also secured at Newcastle and West Brom. Only a powerful Sheffield Wednesday side halted
the Clarets’ progress (1-3). However, Burnley were some way off the hot pace set by
Spurs in their double-winning season.
The benefits of a settled side and strength in reserve were there to
be seen. Seven of the 1960/61 squad had played over one hundred League games for the club,
with three (Adamson, McIlroy and Cummings) having played well over 300 matches and
another, Pilkington, having played on 290 occasions. But these were the days before the
maximum wage was abolished. Club loyalty owed something to serfdom, too.
At this point, Robson was top scorer with 15 goals, followed by
Pointer (7) and Connelly (6). In the reserves, Gordon Harris and Andy Lochhead were making
their mark, while Arthur Bellamy and Willie Irvine were the ‘A’ and
‘B’ team hot shots.
Despite Burnley’s commanding run of form and Blackpool’s
lowly position, Harry was his usual cautious self. He wrote, "Last Saturday Blackpool
broke out of a depressing run with a 4-0 victory over Nottingham Forest, with our old
friend Stan Matthews playing no small part in the revival, proving what a great player he
still is. Then, too, there was the impact of their new signing, Ray Parry, from Bolton
Wanderers for £25,000. He appears to have gingered the attack tremendously and with
Matthews, brought to bear just what was needed to give effect to the talent they
undoubtedly possess in spite of their hitherto unimpressive record this season. A team
with such players as England’s reigning right full back, Jimmy Armfield, a fine
goalkeeper like Tony Waiters and left winger, Bill Perry must be a team of power."
Harry was right to be cautious as Burnley lost 2-1 in front of a
crowd of 29,689, their third largest League gate of the season. The duel between Burnley's
19 year-old full back Alex Elder and veteran maestro Stanley Matthews intrigued the
reporters on this game.
In one unattributed cutting it is stated, "To take on this
legendary figure was by far and away the most nerve-racking ordeal the young left-back had
faced, even allowing that Matthews was 26 years older. So he decided to stick as close to
him as a shadow. As usual, Matthews wandered in search of the ball, inside towards the
middle and back to right-half territory, and always he had a faithful shadow alongside.
Matthews clearly enjoyed the situation. He deliberately wandered further than usual, to
left half, left-back and even behind right back. Occasionally he burst into a sprint,
irrespective of the game, to amuse the crowd, because his shadow was not far behind. Once
Matthews was surprised to find the youngster was not with him. So he called out and stood,
hand on hips, until he arrived."
Unfortunately, it was to no avail. As the Burnley Express later
reported, "Well, these tactics didn't quite pay off. Dave Durie and Bill Perry scored
after Jimmy McIlroy had put Burnley ahead. Don't remind Alex Elder of it now, but that
first Blackpool goal was started off by Matthews."
A much better result was secured on a mud heap at White Hart Lane in
early December, when Burnley came back from a 0-4 deficit to grab a point. 2 Connelly, who
in the 38th minute managed to round off a move involving McIlroy and Pilkington, inspired
the fight back. Then in the second half, Robson and Pointer closed the gap, as the game
became more and more frenetic. Both Spurs and Burnley hit the post as play swung from one
end to the other. It looked as if Burnley’s chance had gone when Spurs’ keeper
Bill Brown made a stunning save from Miller. But a sharp one-two with Robson put Connelly
clear for the England winger to blast the ball past Brown. The crowd which had been in
full-throated ‘Glory, Glory, Hallelujah’ rapture, were now silenced. However,
had John White not fluffed an easy opportunity in the final minutes, this brilliant
recovery would have proved pointless.
There were other good League results that year like the 5-3
victories over Newcastle, Wolves and Bolton, the 5-2 demolition of Arsenal at Highbury and
the 4-1 beating of Nottingham Forest. However, Burnley lost too many games against
mediocre and struggling sides for them to mount an effective challenge, despite beating
Spurs 4-2 in the final weeks; some small compensation for their earlier FA Cup semi-final
defeat.
Burnley finished in fourth place. Arguably, they made assaults on
too many fronts. They narrowly failed to make the League Cup final, too, losing a replayed
semi-final to Villa in front of a mere 8,000 at Old Trafford. Burnley played 61
competitive matches that season; a huge fixture list in those days. This was on top of a
gruelling summer tour. They seemed to recognise that they had
over-reached themselves when, controversially, they fielded a reserve side in a home
League game against Chelsea in March 1961 (4-4). This was done in order to spare their
first team for a European Cup game in Hamburg, during the following week.
I clearly remember running the two miles home from school on a
bright March afternoon to see the Hamburg tie on TV. I
hadn’t been allowed to stay up to see the earlier European games on TV, so this was
my first opportunity to see the Clarets in action. A friend had told me how well Burnley
had played in the home leg, winning 3-1. I was confident they could progress. After all, a
two-goal lead had been enough in the previous round, against a strong Rheims side, which
had included former Real Madrid star Raymond Kopa and World Cup scoring sensation Just
Fontaine.
The TV seemed to take ages to warm up. It was old and clapped out. I
had to pull the curtains right across to make any sense of the pale, grainy picture. My
encounters with Burnley were becoming seance-like. Then I had to wait for news of the
score. When I found out I didn't like it; Burnley were 0-2 down. They were still level on
aggregate but looked well under the cosh. The Germans had this short, dumpy centre
forward. He didn't look like a footballer. He didn't look like any sort of athlete and yet
he was brilliant: bold, slippery and quick. Time and time again, he would totally confound
the Burnley defence; taking on and beating Jimmy Adamson at will. It was humiliating. That
centre forward's name was Uwe Seeler. Nine years later he would help end England's reign
as World Champions. On this day he was simply Burnley's nemesis.
It was so difficult to take in how fallible my heroes were. Only
knowing them at a distance somehow increased their stature. From afar, I had imagined them
to be strong and resolute in the tackle, inventive and precise with their passing and
almost unstoppable when they surged forward. What I was seeing here wasn't even a faded
representation of my imaginings. What was on show was what I saw too regularly at my
hometown club: ragged uncoordinated, despairing play. True, they made a late rally but it
wasn’t enough.
Burnley lost 1-4. The European adventure was over. A cacophonous
crowd of 71,000 had driven Hamburg to victory. Burnley had failed to make a three goal
lead count. It was hugely disappointing. To make matters worse, Burnley then faced
disciplinary action (and a £1,000 fine) by the Football League for fielding a weakened
team against Chelsea.
My solitary artefact of that year, the Blackpool programme, made
only one reference to the European Cup campaign. A travel agent was "hoping to make
arrangements for a Supporters' Party to visit Rheims, flying Manchester to Paris, thence
by coach, the approximate cost £17 per head." I like the ‘hoping’ bit. How
to inspire your customers with confidence! Also, that £17 amounted to almost two weeks
wages of a manual worker in 1960.
In 1960, fewer people could afford to follow their team on their
travels. For example, rail travel to Birmingham for the game at Aston Villa on November
5th was advertised at 21/6 (i.e. £1.08). This may seem reasonably priced but amounted to
around £30, if converted into modern prices. Even if you could muster the dosh,
travelling away in 1960 must have guaranteed an automatic Marco Polo award. The Villa
excursion had a scheduled departure from Burnley at 8.15am. It is difficult to comprehend
that the destination was Birmingham and not Plymouth. With the return journey starting at
6.30pm, this was going to be one hell of a long day. But these were the days of steam,
when the panting, clanking coal trains struggled up the Calder valley and Rose Grove
hissed and bustled with oily, sulphurous life.
Certainly, manager Harry Potts didn't seem to expect the travelling
thousands who follow his team today. He indicated in his programme notes that there
"were quite a number of Burnley people there to see (the Clarets' 6-2 rout of
Chelsea) because of their visit to London for the Motor Show." Given the relatively
high cost of away travel, it was apparent that supporters needed an ulterior motive to
travel so far in those times.
Cash wasn’t just an issue for fans in those days. It was also a
big issue for our top players. I am referring, of course, to the maximum wage ruling
imposed by the Football League. At the start of the 1960/61 season the £20 a week maximum
wage was still in force, although some clubs partially circumvented this with various
bonus schemes. Of course, a £20 a week wage was double that earned by an average manual
worker. But it was a poor return for top class entertainers who had vast crowd pulling
power, despite the continued decline in attendances from the 1948-49 high. Consequently,
it wasn't unusual for top players to have other jobs. For example, four Burnley regulars,
John Angus, Adam Blacklaw, John Connelly and Jimmy Robson all worked part-time for the
National Coal Board in 1960. Former England International Tom Finney had his own plumbing
business. However, the export of our top players (Greaves, Law, Baker, Hitchens, Charles)
emphasised how uncompetitive this arrangement was when set alongside the riches to be
gained in Italy.
Until Jimmy Hill, then the Chairman of the Professional Footballers'
Association, adroitly conducted the campaign for the abolition of the maximum wage in
1960-61, players' expectations seemed much more modest. Eddy Baily, who was also an
England International and a leading First Division player with Spurs and Nottingham Forest
during the fifties, described a typical post-match routine, thus. "After a home game,
I would meet my wife outside the ground and we would then walk home, often picking up some
fish and chips on the way." No fast cars and hot night spots for Eddy!
If Double-winning Spurs were the team of the 1960-61 season, then
Elvis was certainly the rock artist of that campaign. After emerging from the army, his
'It's Now Or Never' was number one for eight weeks from November, selling one million
copies, thereby breaking the existing British record held by Harry Belafonte's 'Mary's Boy
Child'. Less conspicuously, Jess Conrad added another gem to his collection with the
release of 'This Pullover'. Jess was the Ed Wood of the pop world and 'Cherry Pie' was his
'Plan Nine from Outer Space'. If I explain that in this song, the love of the singer's
life is ardently compared to an individual fruit pie, you will perhaps understand the
quality of Jess' creations. There again, Captain Beefheart dedicated one of his songs to a
candy bar ('Kandy Korn' on the album 'Mirror Man') and his 'deconstruction' of the blues
was hailed as the work of a wayward genius. Life just isn't fair is it, Jess?
Outside the Charts, a growling, nasal 19-year-old folk singer was
trying to establish himself in Greenwich Village, New York. Heavily influenced by Woody
Guthrie's bitter folk songs of social injustice, he was contemptuous of both the pap of
current popular music and the sanitised folk scene in the wake of the Kingston Trio. His
early work was largely unoriginal, being standard blues and folk covers. But his own
acerbic songs would soon emerge, inspiring a generation of collegiate protesters and
lending populist weight to the US civil rights campaign. The name of this future icon was
Bob Dylan.
