It was back in 1952. I was nine years old at the time.  The country was still recovering from the war, the king had recently died, and sweets were still on ration (and would remain so for another year). I can still remember the long queues at the small sweet shop on the corner of Barrow Street and Ormskirk Street in St Helens. Meat was to remain on ration until 1954.

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I lived at the time in Link Avenue in the Blackbrook district of St Helens. Whilst the houses were only 15 years old at the time the road was unmade, had large pools of water when it rained and it would be several years before it was tarmacked. Although the housing was considered modern, street lighting was by gas.

 

The only entertainment we had in the house was a Redifussion radio, consisting of a box speaker receiving wired sound, with a control switch giving an option of three stations. These were BBC Light Programme, BBC Home Service and BBC Third Programme.

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It was from this background that we were to be introduced to the latest innovation. It all happened at No70 Link Avenue, a house owned at that time be a family called Hudspeth, who would later emigrate to Canada.

 

On the day in question children could be seen after school, looking up at the roof of No 70. Erected on the chimney was a giant metal x . None of us had ever seen anything like it. What was it? What was it for? What did it do?

 

One enlightened voice told us that it was called television and in the evening you would be able to see a picture.

 

By early evening a small group of 8 to 10 year olds (myself included) waited eagerly for the sun to set, we all stood in the Avenue staring unblinking at the metal cross. We all left disappointed when it became apparent that no picture was to appear.

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By the end of 1952, my Auntie who also lived in Link Avenue at No 58 became the second family in the Avenue to buy a television. It was a black and white Murphy Television with a 12”screen. In her case it was not an X but a giant H (appropriate, as it resembled rugby posts, both my Auntie and Uncle were keen rugby league fans, being season ticket holders for St Helens Rugby League team.)

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I remember the first evening when, along with my parents and sister, I was invited to go to their house to view this wonder. My first viewing was of a boxing match, followed by a lady playing a piano. Although the screen was very small and was broadcast using only one fixed camera, it was a never to be forgotten experience.

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Television in those days consisted of only one BBC channel. It started at 5:00 pm with children’s programmes for 30 minutes. Transmission then closed down until 7:00 pm when the next 30 minutes was a newsreel of the previous day’s stories. A limited evening’s programme would then continue until 10:00 pm when the transmission would close with the News in sound only, followed by the National Anthem.  Each programme would be introduced by a presenter in full evening dress if a woman, or dinner jacket and bow tie if a man.

 

The BBC would remain the sole television station until 1955 when commercial television came to our screens.  Here in the North West we were served by Granada from Manchester on Channel 9.

It was during the first weeks of television in my Aunties that I along with a friend was invited to watch the children’s programme each evening. These were usually cowboy films featuring cowboy stars of the times – Roy Rogers, Tex Ritter, Gene Autrey, Hopalong Cassidy and Lash LaRue. (Although we had never seen television before, we recognised them from the cinema and comics.)

 

We would arrive at 4:50 and sit listening to the clock on the wall ticking down the seconds until Aunty Betty turned on the television with two minutes to go. It would take the valves and cathode ray tube in the television the whole of the two minutes to warm up. We sat there in expectation, hoping that we would not miss the start of the programme.

 

It was always a nervous time for me, I was always afraid I would do something wrong. I can still hear my Aunty telling me, ’Sit back on the chair’, don’t sit too close to the edge’. Why did these words bother me? Well, the chair was made of leather and highly polished. Over the back of the chair was an antimacassar, (The name alone sounds spooky). An antimacassar was a rectangle piece of cloth, often edged in lace, originally placed to prevent hair oil from marking the chair, but latterly as decorative.

 

When told to sit back I would invariably dislodge the cloth causing it to slide down the front of the chair and crease, resulting from an apology from me and a stern look from my Aunty.

 

Nevertheless, we were grateful to her for the opportunity and watched the screen enthusiastically until the end of the programme when she would turn off the television and we would remain still until the little white spot disappeared from the centre of the screen.

 

In addition to the children’s programmes I was fortunate to have the opportunity to watch the coronation in June 1953. This was the biggest venture into television broadcasting at that time and resulted in a surge of people buying into this comparatively new medium.

 

Along with my parents we were also invited to watch television in the evenings. This was to come to an abrupt halt with an episode that was to haunt me for years to come. (See I still get sweaty palms writing about it)

 

I have always been clumsy (not only when dislodging chair covers) and on the evening in question I slipped and knocked over a clothes horse. The top of the clothes horse fell into a highly polished mahogany upright piano cutting a small (2”) scratch into one of the panels.

 

This (unfortunately) was our last visit in the evening to watch television. I was ten years old and condemned for the foreseeable future to be pointed out as the person who damaged the piano. Until the death of my uncle in the late 1970’s, whenever I entered the house, my eyes immediately focused on the panel with the scratch.

 

We did not get our own television until 1957, when by this time there were two channels. ITV had arrived. Our first television was a Murphy V230 as shown. It had only a 12” screen but was very neat. It was advertised as portable but was connected to a mains lead. At that time our house had no electric sockets so the television lead went up to the ceiling and along to a double adaptor on the central ceiling light.

We have come a long way since those days, but all who lived through those days look back with affection and the amazement we felt at the time.