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Early escapades

A few weeks ago I wrote about some of the early bus services which operated in and around Newark in the Twenties and Thirties.

That article certainly seems to have struck a chord and I have been pleased to receive a number of letters from Advertiser readers recalling their personal experiences of using early public transport.

Mrs Nora Lunn of Newark, wrote in with her memories of the old Silver Queen service between Lincoln and Newark and, coincidentally, supplied a probable explanation as to why driver Mr Bob Kirk (pictured) had time to pose for a photograph half way along the route at Bassingham.

Mrs Lunn writes that back in the Twenties her family lived at Bassingham and her father, Mr Fred Arnold, used the Silver Queen bus to travel to Newark to his work at Bainbridges drapery store (now the Nottingham Building Society).

Mrs Lunn wrote: "Father was always late in the mornings and he would still be shaving when the bus arrived. On these occasions either my sister or I would have to stand at the garden gate, hold up dad's Gladstone bag (it contained his lunch) and ask the driver to wait until dad was ready. The bus would always wait and, if there were no other passengers, Bob Kirk would park outside our gate and come in for a cup of tea."

Silver Queen was taken over by Lincolnshire Roadcar in 1928 when, one suspects, the service became somewhat more regulated.

Other memories of early bus services have been provided by Mrs Margaret Moutrie of Kent who is the daughter of Mr William Gash, founder of one of the area's most fondly remembered and long-running local bus companies.

Gash's buses were a familiar sight on the roads in and around Newark until as recently as 1988, providing a much needed and highly valued local service.

Mrs Moutrie's memories, however, go back to the very start of the business in Elston in 1919 when the first service ran to Newark for the Wednesday market.

It all began after the village joiner, Mr George Wilkinson, asked William Gash if he would use his Beeston-Humber lorry to take a coffin to Newark hospital and return with a deceased parishioner.

Mrs Moutrie said: "While making the journey, the idea came into father's head that he might be able to transport live parishioners as well.

He consulted the blacksmith and together they devised a hooped construction to fit over the lorry to support a tarpaulin cover.

"The joiner made some slatted seats for passengers and when it was ready mother and my aunt, Lilian Kemp, went round the village telling everybody that 'the bus' would be going to Newark on Wednesday, market day.

"At the time for its departure, the bus refused to budge. Mother and Aunt Lilian went round the village again cancelling the trip. On their return, the washerwoman had decided to give some assistance by putting her shoulder to the back of the vehicle, and with a cry of 'Gerrup y'oud bitch!' the engine burst into life and they were off."

Gash's buses were launched. A third memory of early bus travel in Newark - although of a rather different kind - is recounted by Mr Victor Smyth in the first part of his autobiography Life of a Country Boy published in 1993.

Back in the Twenties Mr Smyth lived at 14 Thoresby Avenue, and recalls the momentous day when Lincolnshire Roadcar began to run a service from Hawtonville into the centre of town.

He said: "It was a great relief for people who had struggled home loaded with shopping. One of our favourite tricks as boys was to hang on to the back of the buses as they started from the terminus at the end of the street (Thoresby Avenue).

It was a contest to see who dare hold on the longest because the driver would accelerate to quite a speed. "One night someone threw out a challenge for anyone who could hold on to the Oval (opposite the Broadway pub).

Several of us offered to take on the challenge, so when the next bus came we stood hovering at the rear waiting for the driver to start. "As the bus moved forward we hung onto the back, it gathered speed rapidly - more rapidly than was normal - making it difficult to hold on.

Faster and faster the bus went down Bowbridge Road towards the Oval but now there was only me hanging on. I was determined not to let go - I would have crashed to the floor face first.

"By now the bus was probably doing over 20 miles an hour but I had no other choice than to hang on knowing he would have to slow down to go around the corner before the next stop.

Even when he did finally slow down I could not release my hold because my legs were shaking and numb.

"Not until he actually stopped did I have the confidence to release my grip giving a sigh of relief. For some few minutes I could not walk at all because of the agonising pain in my knees and feet.

I thought all the skin must be gone from my feet because I was only wearing plimsolls. When I eventually arrived back at the terminus the other boys had gone."

ABOVE: A Silver Queen bus stops in Bassingham on its run from Lincoln to Newark some time in the late Twenties. Standing beside the vehicle is driver Mr Bob Kirk.

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