Lead Works

A Memory of Newburn.

1965. Wes and me got back from the Smoke wi nought and needed a job, he got started at the leather works on Scotchy Road and I got started at the Lead Works which is now the site of the Arena. There were two sides to this place, the lead smelting side and the aluminium smelting side, I got into the aluminium side which pleased me as the lead side was a bit naughty with all the fumes and protective clothing including masks. There was a permanent nurse there who would take blood every month to check your count and if there was any sign of lead in your blood you were sacked, the get out clause was if you had it you were not wearing your mask. I knew quite a few people who were sacked and went back a few months later when clear and got their job back. The aluminium side had its drawbacks as well, we were on 12 hour shifts and I had a smelting hearth where I would load old electric drills into the hearth and the aluminium had a lower melting point than the rest of it so this would run into the tank at the opposite end and I would rake out of the hearth what was left behind and load it up again. when the tank was full I would lift a big steel cover by levers off the hole to ladle the hot metal from and pour into a bank of moulds, each mould would give a five pound ingot and there was about thirty which when cool you would knock out and start again. Anyway I went in one night at 7pm to start my stint, the guy on the opposite shift Bart Wilson would hand over to me and let me know what the state of play was, as I would him in the morning. Before you started you would dip your ladle in whitewash to prevent the metal sticking, open the metal lid enough to rest the ladle on and get it dry as water and molten metal don't mix. It was a dark winters night and a blessing to have a job on this lovely warm furnace, this was housed in a huge open fronted building I put my ladle on to dry and the ladle fell into the molten metal, there was a huge explosion as the metal erupted and I remember looking up to the roof and seen it on its way back down like silver rain coming straight at me. I turned to run and got tangled in some metal turnings that were dumped beside the furnace that was it I was splattered. One rule is don't run outside but fear got me and as soon as I got out in the yard my clothes caught fire, luck happens there were a couple of lads outside who rolled me on the ground and got the fire out. I was sent to the General Hospital and treated for my burns, not life threatening. I was off work about two months and there was one place that would not heal, it was a sore on my waist where the waist band of my trousers kept rubbing, I still have the scar to this day. Yi Na! I never claimed compensation, and to this day I rued it, I'm sure I could have got a nice little earner.
There was shot tower like a huge chimney which in years gone by produced the finest shot in the world this was used for shotguns. One summer night me pal Micky Mathews and me decided to inspect it, we cranked open the door and when inside looked up to what seemed to be infinity, there was sandstone steps around the perimeter with no handrail winding all the way to the top so off we set when we almost reached the top the last few steps were wooden leading to the platform these were rotten and with a skip and a jump we were there. On the platform was a melting pot, a block and tackle, a sieve, and a pulley wheel. The lead was melted and poured through the sieve which then fell into a tank of water at the bottom, it was the precise height that determined the perfection of the shot. The block and tackle was to bring the lead up, the pulley wheel was to drop his white enameled tea can down and someone would fill it up at the canteen for his bait and send it back up. I was told this old man went up at the beginning of his shift and stayed till the up there till the end, what he did for a toilet must have been a simple bucket. Well, our inspection over, it was time to head back down, but who was going to tackle these rotted wood steps first? Whoever went first, if the steps gave way he was surely a goner, the guy behind would be left with no way of contacting anyone as no one knew we were up there and this place was out of bounds. Remember! There were no mobile phones in those days, and you could shout till you wore yourself out but no one would hear you all the way up there. So who made the decision to go first I can't remember, but the steps held and I'm here to tell the tale. Oh! And Micky is still around, he lives over in Benton with Elsa his wife although I've not seen him for a number of years, I heard he is in ill health and I must make the effort to go and see him.

---

---