As the son of a coal miner, much of my life was centred  around
the day to day events of the pit.When my Dad first left school, he
wanted to be a builder, and worked for some time helping to erect
houses at the top of Crook Gate Bank Top. At the time, he was only
13 or 14 years of age.
One day while he was out shopping with his father, who was a
coal miner at Beamish Mary, the Manager of the pit said to Dad's
father, "By, he's a fine big lad, when will he be starting at the pit"?
"Well", his Dad said, "he's already left school and working on
a building site."The pit manager replied quite sharply, "Bring him
to the pit on Monday, and if you fail to do so, you can look for
another job and house."
Well, that was that. My Dad had no other choice other than to
present himself for work at the pit on the Monday morning. At that
time he was paid about 10 shillings a week.
Dad was a keen sportsman and played football and cricket for
local teams to a high standard. At one stage, later , he could have
played League Football. He was also a fine athlete. They used to
hold athletic meetings on the Kings Head Field, and, instead of
prize money, the prizes for winning would be clothes and material
vouchers for local shops. Dad won so many races, he virtually
clothed the whole family.
When he first married my mother, they lived for a while with her
parents before getting a colliery house in Middle Street, East
Stanley. They had several houses after this, in Joicey Square,
Railway Tce. Shield Row, and then Delacour Street, Stanley.  
Even at home you could not get away from the pit. At different times
of the day, various pit hooters would sound to indicate the pits were
working or laid off. Within three miles of our home, there were
many coillieries, such as - Beamish Air and Mary, the Louisa,
Tanfield Lea Margaret, East Tanfield,  the Morrison North,
South and Busty, South Moor Hedley and William Pits, Shield Row
Drift, the Charlie Pit, the Craghead Pits, Burnhope, Hobson, Dipton,
Marley Hill etc. You could even smell the pit in our kitchen. Mam
used to dry Dad's wet pit clothes in the boiler at the side of the
coal fire. He worked in water, and the clothes smelled of a type
of canker. This smell was forever in the house. When the clothes
dried, Mam would shake them against the outside wall to remove
the coal and stone dust.
In the pantry, in a tin on the floor, was Dad's carbide crystals which
he used to fuel his carbide pit lamp. You would drop a few pieces
of the carbide into the lamp well, and add some water. The chemical
reaction gave off a gas, which, then in turn when ignited, produced a
flame for the light. This lamp had a reflector, and once Mam polished
the reflector so bright, that when Dad went to work, his marras
(workmates) could not see for the dazzle.
Marras were a very important part of a miner's life. Quite often your
life depended on the man next to you when underground, and they
shared a great trust in each other. This forged great and lasting
friendships away from work.
If you were awake in the early morning you could often hear the sound
of the coal miner's boots on the footpaths as the men made their way
towards the pit. Imagine entering the cage to go underground for the
day, not seeing daylight for eight hours or more, with only the light
of your lamp, swallowing coal and stone dust for hours on end,
sometimes up to the waist in water. Most times, the miners would be
lying on their sides, working in coal seams as low as eighteen inches
in height.
The sound of the pit buzzer during shifts would strike fear into the
hearts of the women folk, expecting the worst. Another fear was if the
pit ambulance man called to the house. This would mean anm accident
underground, and a trip to the hospital.
Due to so many men working in the local coal industry, conversations
away from the pit usually were about work. Either at the pub or club,
or at the welfare ground. After working at the Beamish Colliery, my
Dad moved to East Tanfield.
The biggest event of the year was the  Durham Miner's Gala held in
Durham City. Each colliery had it's own miners lodge affilliated to
the DMA. At the local meeting ofeach lodge, they would draw out
the names of the miners selected to  carry the lodge banner at the Gala.
Only fully paid up union members were allowed the honor of carrying
the banner.
Some collieries like Craghead, the Morrison and South Moor had
their own brass bands, Others would hire a band in for the day. It was
the custom for most collieries to parade the bannert through thair own
villages before setting off for Durham. Several of the local collieres
would parade either up or down Stanley Fronmt Street both before
and after the Gala.
East Tanfield Lodge used to meet at the Stanley Empire Club, early
in the morning on Gala Day. The band was hired in, and breakfast was
provided for them at West Stanley Co-operative Cafe. After a few
beers in the club, the band would play a few tunes on the Front Street
before the buses left to go to Durham.Once in Durham, the band, the
lodge officials and carriers and the families of East Tanfield Lodge,
would meet at the Garden House. There they would prepare for the
march down into and through Durham. There was always great
excitement. The brightly painted banner was taken out of it's bag
and assembl/ed on the poles. The band would lione up, followed by
the Lodge Banner, Officials and the families. All was set. There was
a great feeling of pride and affilliation to the pit banner swelling up
inside you as the band struck up, and off we would go.
The scene as you passed under the railway arches was staggering. There
before you were tens of thousand of people lining the streets all
the way down to the bridge. In front of you, and behind you were
the sounds of other bands and Lodges on the march. There were often
long hold ups as the throng of people reached the bottom of Silver
Street. So narrow was this street, that the sound was bouncing all
around you with the sound of the big drums echoing in your ears.
Up above were the Castle and the Cathedral, and even these went
unseen amidst this great spectacle.
On one such day as we reached the bottom of Silver Street, everything
came to a halt as the bands ahead were unable to move any further.
These narrow streets were filled to capacity, with not a spare inch
to move. The bands were still playing, and the crowds were still
singing, and the tunes ran into each other. Slowly, we struggled up
this street before turning to go down to Elvet, where the politicians of
the day were on the balcony of the County Hotel. At this time, the
crowds were like a sea of people, with no beginning and no end.
Some bands would stop here to play a special tune, holding up those
behind even longer. Eventually, we reached the top of the bank leading
onto the Sands Raccource. This view was also spectacular. Every inch
in sight was covered with bands, banners and people. It was possible
to hear ten bands in front of you, and another ten behind.
Once we reached our designated area, the banner was set down st
a fence, with the band instruments set in front of it. The banner carriers
could at last remove their carrying straps, and have a well earned rest.
Many would go off to the nearest pub while others sat where they could
for a meal with their families. For the rest of the afternoon, the remainder
of the bands and banners would make their way to the site.
Many went down to the riverside for a row on the boats while others
headed to the nearby showground. During all this, the politicians gave
their speaches from the raised platforms to the mass crowds.
 Mam had bought Dad a new white shirt to wear to carry the banner. With
the soaring temperatures, and the task of carrying the banner, he sweated
profusely. This was still the days of the tin bath and the sweat brought
out the coaldust from his pores, and the new white shirt was stained in
coal dust sweat. He was so proud of carrying this banner, and we were
rightly proud of him also.
 Some bands were selected to take the Lodge Banner into the Cathedral
for a service. By the time the last band arrived on the course, it was time
for the first to have arrived, to lift banner, strike up the band, and start
the journey up the steep ramp on the course, and head back through the city.
A few of the banners had black draped around the edges, to signify there
had been deaths at their colliery. Once, I remeber Easington Banner was
almost totally draped in black due to the disaster there in October 1953
when 83 miners lost thier lives.
The journey out of Durham was even livlier due to the merriment and
drink during the day. The younger people would link arms and dance
sise to side through the streets. It was a time of Celebration. I know how
proud I felt, walking next to my Dad, in the shadow of East Tanfield Lodge
Banner. He and his colleagues represented their Lodge, Colliery and Town
with great pride and dignity.
Eventually we reached our destination at Dryburn where the buses were
waiting to take us back to Stanley. When we arrived, the banner was
reassemled, the band struck up again, and we all marched through Stanley,
back to the Empire Club, amidst the cheering local people. A Grand Day
to be the son of a Stanley coal miner.
In 1947, Dad injured his knee with a windy pick (Pneumatic drill) and that ended his sporting activities. Years later, he was buried in a large fall of stone and received severe spine injuries, and had to have silver screws in his ankle to keep it straight. Like all miners, he suffers from pit dust, but those evil examiners said it was only minimal. A later operation showed his lungs were full of pit dust, but that was the case of many miners. How come it did not show on the original examination?, God only knows. I know of another relation by marriage who was diagnosed less than 5% coal dust. At the end of his life, following an operation, he was diagnosed as 100%. How could those pit doctors do such a thing to the working man? He died weeks later.
At the time of writing,July 2007, I believe my Dad is the oldest surving miner from East Tanfield Colliery. He is 94. I hope it runs in the family.
                                                        Jack Hair
Do you have a coal mining story of the Stanley area? If so, I would love to hear from you.   E mail    jackhair@tiscali.co.uk
  

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