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Hi all, so glad I found this site, so much history in one place. I was born at walkley in 65, moved to Bubwith rd Brightside where my mum was born and grandparents lived. From there we lived in a cottage in Roe Woods, my dad became one of the first 6 park patrollers, on motorbikes, in Sheffield while at Roe Wood. From there we moved to Shiregreen where mum still lives. Dad was born at the bottom end of Bellhouse rd. Have lived in a few places in Sheffield and now 20 years in Chesterfield. Looking forward to reading lots more and to dig up some of my own memories and photos to share with everyone. :-))

Some photos of The Grand Hotel and surrounding area, the first two from 1926, the next five from 1951/2 and the last a modern aerial view, from approximately the same angle and height of the one before. You can see the site where ‘The Grand’ stood, but nothing visible remains of it, yet buildings immediately adjacent (and the garden on Barker’s Pool) still survive.

SHEFFIELD GIRL After I started work at The Grand Hotel in the centre of Sheffield, I began to write in my tiny, handbag size, 'Film Star' diary, all the daily happenings. I was meeting 'Stars' almost every day, and I felt it all had to be carefully documented. I also kept my autograph book close to hand! I was able to meet many stars on a one to one basis, thanks to the manager of the Sheffield Empire, Johnny Spitzer, who lived at 'The Grand'. He was very kind to me, not only giving me two free tickets, in the best seats, almost every week, but also making sure that I met the performers that I really liked. Whilst my old school friends were now forming steady relationships and looking in jeweller's windows in anticipation, for me, marriage was always in the distant future. Despite having strong feelings, from time to time, for certain boyfriends, it was never with the intention of 'settling down'. For me, I felt there was so much more to life than getting married, so many people to meet and places to discover - and I managed to hold on to my single status until I was 27! Despite the rather hectic and most enjoyable social life I had in Sheffield, I longed for something more. Jenny, my pen friend in London, encouraged me to spread my wings, and when I eventually left Sheffield behind, I was full of excited trepidation for the wonders that I truly believed existed in London. And it was exciting. (Quite terrifyingly so, on occasion). I was there when the 'Profumo Scandal' made all the front pages; in fact it was happening so closely around me that I was even mistaken for Mandy Rice-Davies! Meeting well known people from stage screen and television was a daily happening, and I was thrilled to become friends with my favourite pop star - Gene Pitney! I remember clearly the deaths of Marilyn Monroe and Jack Kennedy; coming face to face with two of the Beatles on Oxford Street; appearances on TV and having a very famous neighbour! I was almost 20 years old, it was the birth of 'The Swinging Sixties' and London was most certainly the best place to be - I became a teenager all over again! I really loved living in London, even imagining, eventually, that I was a London Girl; after living there for eight years I thought I'd shaken off my Yorkshire roots - I'd certainly had some rough corners knocked off me! But of course, you never, ever, completely lose your true foundation. And although I have now been away from Sheffield, for far longer than I ever lived there, I will always think of myself as a Sheffield Girl. Life at the Grand October 1st 1956 - I'm excited, but a little uneasy about my first day working at the Grand Hotel. I will have to work in shifts - one-week 7.0am till 2.0pm and one week 2.0pm till 10.0pm, and on the switchboard every other weekend. For this, I get paid £2.3s.7d per week. It's quite a long journey from my home in Ecclesfield. I take a 20 minute bus journey, passing the Sheffield Wednesday football ground at Owlerton, along Penistone Road and West Bar, into Bridge Street bus station in Sheffield City centre, then I walk up Snigg Hill to Fargate, stopping to look in the window of Kemsley House, where the Telegraph and Star are situated - I love to see who's photograph might be on display there, (it might even be Mavis's!) and then on towards Leopold Street, pausing to look in the window of Wilson Peck (musical instruments) they are the 'posh' version of Cann's, the music shop in Dixon Lane. (After all these years, Wilson Peck finally closed down in 2001). At the GrandAnd so on to The Grand Hotel, in all, it takes upwards of 15 minutes, depending on how long I spend shop window gazing. The staff entrance is in Orchard Street; one goes down into the bowels of the hotel, where we have to 'clock on'. Cards with our name on, are kept in a wooden rack, with 'OUT' emblazoned across the top, on one side of the clock. We take out our card push it into a slot under the clock, which then stamps it, extremely noisily, with the time of entry. It's then placed in a rack emblazoned with 'IN', on the other side of the clock. When we leave, the whole process is reversed. Heaven help those who forget to perform this daily, and sometimes twice daily (when on 'split' shifts) ritual! I have to be fitted for a uniform as I am going to be working on the lift, running errands, and I might even get a look at the switchboard. I have to start the day by polishing the huge mahogany table that takes up most of the vastness of the front hall. There are two enormous ashtrays on this table, which I have to keep an eye on and be constantly emptying and polishing. The main entrance, in Barker's Pool, has two huge plate glass doors; the long reception desk is situated opposite, with the porter's desk just inside the doorway to the left, and the restaurant off to the right. Past the Porter's desk and two steps down into the main part of the hall, the switchroom, on the right, is little more than a walk-in cupboard. The switchboard is big enough and often busy enough, for two people to work it, it is a 'dolls eye' switchboard, which means that 'lids' with a number to represent the number of the room, drops down when a phone is picked up. Many guests (and the hotel manager!) think they have to flash the cradle up and down to get our attention, this makes the 'eyelid' open and close very rapidly - making a very annoying noise, can you imagine what it would be like if everyone did that!! It's bad enough when two or three do it at once, all they need to do is pick up the phone and wait for a moment, but no, everyone seems to think that they are the only person wanting to make a phone call! (Roll on subscriber trunk dialling!!) Beside the switchroom stands a tall glass cabinet, full of paperbacks for the guests to purchase. At weekends, when I am on the switchboard and it isn't very busy, Dennis, the nicest of the porters, will let me choose a book to read, so long as I promise to return it in good condition and not turn back the corners of the pages. A walk across the front hall towards the ballroom will bring you to the barber's shop on the left, right next to that, pushed up into a corner is my little world - the lift! Across the hall I can see into the bar which is situated between the stairs that lead up to the Manager's office, the staff dining room and the guests rooms, and the way through to the other lounge. There's also a 'secret' door that leads to the back stairs and the 'luggage' lift, which every now and again, when my lift is out of order, I have to go on. I'm appalled that the guests also have to use this horrible lift on these occasions too - or walk up several flights of stairs to get to their floor. The front hall is also the main lounge; there are lots of easy chairs arranged in straight rows. There's another lounge by the revolving doors, which is the back entrance, but is on the main street - it all seems back to front, to me! Even in 1956, the Grand is considered to be rather old fashioned. Is it really necessary to have a lift operator? I can only assume that it is cheaper than altering the lift's mechanism to automatic. My uniform is awful, a muddy brown colour with faded gold cord trim, it's too short, too tight, shabby and showing all too clearly that it has been worn by many others before me. I'm told we will be getting new uniforms soon, but it seems they've been saying that for years. Anyway, I don't want one; the sooner I get out of this one the better. Little do I know that for as long as I am at the Grand, the only time I am out of uniform is when I am working on the switch board at weekends and when the regular telephonists are on holiday, then I get to wear black (whoopee!). After I have learned how to use the switchboard, I shall take over whilst Barbara, the head telephonist, is having a break. The telephonists have their break in the staff dining room, on the mezzanine floor, whereas the hoi-polloi, such as myself, have to go down into the bowels of the hotel, and find our way through long, dimly-lit corridors, where I can hear the scurry of small brown creatures, to a room that seems to be somewhat Dickensian. The food is absolutely disgusting, a horrible looking mince, full of nasty looking bits, that I do not consider fit for human consumption. I constantly make do with bread and jam, which comes in large containers and when it hasn't fermented, is full of steam flies. There are steam flies everywhere. We keep our clothes in a locker in the locker room, where I have learned to make a lot of noise before opening the door and switching on the light, in an attempt to disperse the mice into their dark little corners, before I go in. Any clothes that have been hanging in my locker are given a good shake before changing into them - those little beggars get everywhere... The kitchen is down here too, I have to pass it on the way to the staff room, I have seen a very nice looking young man working in the kitchen, I'd be happy to get to know him... In due course, a message comes through the grapevine that this young man would like to get to know me too, and via various messages we arrange to meet after work. I write in my diary that I hope he asks me for a date - but not yet, not until we get to know each other better!! Well, we took things very, very slowly in those days......... Actually, not as slowly as I thought, as the first time Mike takes me home, after we have both being working on the late shift, I note in my diary that he kisses me 4 times! (I'm shocked!) Friday January 18th - we arrange to go to the cinema. 'Viva Las Vegas' is on at the Paragon. Mike isn't too bothered about musicals, but I love it, I adore musicals. At the GrandThe path of young love is strewn with misunderstandings, and three weeks of seeing Mike on a daily basis has proved to be too much, especially as I seem to have a rather fickle nature - when I get what I want, I don't want it. I enjoy the thrill of the chase, but soon tire of the quarry. I am meeting so many interesting people, and much as I loathe being 'the little liftgirl', it's a great way of meeting people. I met Tony Wright today and got his autograph, he looks exactly like the photo in my 'Film Star' diary, tanned and rugged, but not at all 'film-starry' - he's really nice. I keep my autograph book handy now, as I never know whom I'm going to meet. Guy Mitchell came to stay, managed to get a photograph but not an autograph - he's tall and handsome and very friendly. Jimmy Young is appearing at the Empire this week, and staying at the Grand, got his autograph - called me darling! He rings Australia - at £10 per minute! Hilda Baker is also here, she has a very nice young man with her called Arthur, he's supposed to be her manager, but he's always going off to play golf. One of the porter's gave me a funny look when I referred to Arthur as her manager, well that's what he told me, I insist, but I get another funny look, which indicates that I must have been born yesterday. I think I understand what he is getting at, but I cannot believe it. She is old enough to be his mother, and, whilst she is my favourite comedienne, and I have the utmost respect for her, she's not exactly the type that I would have thought Arthur would be interested in. (But then I was so-oo naive!) Arthur and I are getting on famously, I really do quite fancy him...and I am really very sorry when the week is up and they move on to some other town. (Little do I know that we will soon meet again...). I note in my diary that their hotel bill comes to £70.2s.4d - equivalent to about 34 weeks wages to me! The Platters are also here. They are all very friendly, Robi in particular, is very nice to me, gave me a kiss and a Krone as a keepsake. (Which I still discover from time to time, hidden away in those little pots that we all have somewhere, into which we pop drawing pins, foreign stamps, coins...) Life at the Grand is quite strange really, on the one hand, I am treated like the lowest of the low, mainly by the porters, yet the 'Stars' who stay here are usually very friendly, and treat me like a fully paid up member of the human race. Sometimes, they even treat me like I'm someone special.. Learning About Life (at The Grand) We somehow managed to buy a television in 1953, to enable us to watch the Queen's Coronation. I used to dash home from school to watch children's television and the antics of 'Billy Bunter' and his schoolmates at the fictitious Greyfriars School. It's February 1957 before we change our T.V. set so that we can receive ITV. Gathering around the fire to watch T.V. on a cold winter's evening, is the best place to be, and because we don't have central heating, we girls argue over who is going to go into the cold kitchen to make a pot of tea. Just going out into the hallway one feels the drop in temperature, only the thought of bringing a tin of Mum's homemade buns to have with the tea, prompts me to go. Mum is a great cook, and I have a great appetite! If I wasn't so active, I could have a real weight problem, as it is, I am growing faster than either of my sisters, which prompts Maurice to tease me mercilessly, and I am made to feel as big and as ungainly as a carthorse! His favourite joke is "don't upset Freda or she'll roll on you!" I was 9st, hardly huge, but compared to my size 10 sisters, it was. I was about 3 inches taller and perhaps a stone heavier than they were, and I remember how unfair it all seemed, with me being the youngest too! Little wonder I felt so uncomfortable in my horrible brown uniform. Our favourite T.V. programme is 'Quite Contrary', which features a very beautiful young lady called Katie Boyle, and introduces to the world, hairstylist, Raymond, (who became known as 'Mr. Teazy Weazy',) he not only demonstrates new hairstyles, but how to change these styles with the aid of hair ornaments and false hair pieces. (I heard the music today - "A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody" - which was played as the model is turned round in her chair, so that we could view the hairstyle from all angles, and now that I'm into classical music, I realize that this very familiar piece, was, in fact 'stolen' from Chopin's Nocturne). It was all so glamorous - a million miles away from our working class lifestyle. Even so, I never thought of us as being poor, as everyone I knew was just the same. Although a certain 'snobbishness' existed amongst us. Mum was exceedingly house proud; her net curtains were always whiter than white, (she was quick to remark on anyone else's that weren't - "have you seen the colour of Mrs. so and so's nets?!!") and the front and back doorsteps scrubbed and 'blanco'd', or painted with 'red cardinal' according to the current trend. And it seemed to me that no sooner had the last room in the house been decorated, than mum would start again from the beginning! Wilson Peck's, a music shop just along the road from The Grand Hotel.The evening shift at 'The Grand' can be quite interesting; I stand by the lift observing all that is going on in the front hall. For a while I was most intrigued by the two women who regularly came in night after night. One tall, slim and blonde with a rather hard face, the other, shorter, and fatter with dyed black hair, and had obviously seen better days. (With hindsight, I would say that the blonde one was probably 30 to 35 years of age, and the other one about 45 - or maybe wishes she was!) They would sit in the front hall, watching everyone who passed by, then after a while they'd go to the ladies powder room, then they'd sit at the bar, which was just opposite the lift, chatting to the other guests. After that, they would walk into the other lounge by the back entrance and sit there for a while. I found it all rather mysterious, what a boring way to spend ones evenings - of course when I mentioned it, the porters were only too willing to explain their behaviour - and teased me for ever after for not knowing! But I still found it difficult to comprehend, why would anyone want to pay to be with these rather unattractive women? (I really did not know anything about prostitutes - why would I? They had never entered my life before, in any shape or form. For all my apparent success in school biology, which was purely academic, there were huge gaps in this area of knowledge, simply because there were huge gaps in what we were taught, and what was available to the curious. Mum was very warm hearted, generous and hard working, but rather straight-laced, she did not want me to know about sex and did not offer any explanations about anything, consequently, I would get very embarrassed at any allusion to sex, and closed my mind to it.) Leading off from the front hall, and just by the lift, is the ballroom - which I am not allowed to enter. I try to catch a glimpse as I go past the entrance, there are wonderful chandeliers, and a ball made up of tiny pieces of mirror, suspended from the ceiling, when it turns, even from where I stand by the lift, I can see the refracted light, cascading across the floor, and lighting up the faces of the ladies in their ball gowns and the men in their dinner suits, as they spill out into the front hall. I love looking at the ladies dresses, and their sparkling necklaces and bracelets. The men look so handsome in their dinner suits. Sometimes I am looked at with curiosity, I have even been described as 'quaint'! Martin, the page boy, suffers from this more than I do, although he is a year older than me, he is really tiny, he has a mass of blonde, naturally curly hair, and round blue eyes. He really does look very cute in his brown page's uniform, complete with pillbox hat - which he hates wearing! Guests think that we are brother and sister, although my curly hair is permed - I have it in the new 'bubble cut' that's so fashionable now. I try to walk casually away from the lift and innocently look inside the ballroom, but I am soon ushered back into my place by a porter, usually Mac - he's such a spoilsport! When Mr. Rendell, the manager, walks through the front hall, he always scowls at me and indicates for me to go inside the lift - I'm in a no-win situation with him, if I'm standing outside the lift - I'm ushered back into it, out of sight. If I'm sitting on my small stool in the corner of the lift - I'm told to 'smarten up'; he walks around as though he has a bad smell under his nose. And his wife thinks she's the queen bee - she rarely spares a look in my direction. In March, drummer, Tony Crombie, came to play at the Empire. We have now graduated to a 'box' at the Empire when quite a few of us go, not only do we have a really great view of the stage, but find that we get a lot of attention from the artists, perhaps they think that folks who can afford to sit in 'the ashtrays', (as the comedians like call them), must be 'somebody'. Anyway, it's a really good show; Tony Crombie can really play those drums! And it's a very lively evening. Tony Crombie doesn't stay at the Grand, but he comes into the hotel with Mr. Spitzer, who is the manager of the Empire, and I get his autograph and tell him how much we enjoyed the show. Johnny Spitzer lives in the hotel, and is very nice to me on the whole, but expects excellent service, and when he rings for the lift, he expects me to be there - but instantly! He nearly rings the buzzer off the wall. It's the same with the telephone, he can't just pick it up and wait to be answered, the little 'dolls eye' flashes madly until he's answered. I can't complain though, I only have to say that I want to go to see a show and he will have two tickets waiting for me at the box office. Mostly, I take Mum with me, and she and Mr. Spitzer always have a little chat. Also, if a visiting star I like isn't staying at the hotel, I only have to say, and Mr. Spitzer will arrange for me to meet them. He always introduces me to the stars he brings in the hotel and will make sure that I get photographs and autographs. All I have to do in return, is suffer a rather wet kiss, and a clasp to his huge body, but it is all very chaste - unlike some of the visitors to the hotel... Colin, who is a travelling salesman for a clothing company, appeared to be very nice at first; he comes quite often, hiring a room to 'show' the clothes. He's quite good looking, as well as being very funny, and I like him a lot, I regard him as my friend and I get quite jealous when I find he has been 'chatting up' Anita, who works the opposite shift to me. I didn't mind too much when he kissed me on the cheek, but when he asked me to stop the lift between the floors so that we could 'do it properly', I'm most offended, and I'm quite 'off' with him for a few days, in fact I feel pretty much on the defensive with him now, but contrarily, I'm still glad when he is visiting again. I realise that I like his attention but I'm giving nothing in return! Another salesman, who is travelling in jewellery, gives me a ring and announces that we are now engaged - doesn't he know I'm only fifteen?! Johnny Ray. Johnny Ray is here!! He's appearing at the City Hall for just one night. There are dozens of fans outside the hotel screaming for him. The porters have to stand in front of the glass doors to stop them from breaking in. Johnny is very tall and exceedingly thin, he's very nice, but he is rushed around by the people who are with him, so I don't get the chance to ask for his autograph, which is a great pity, because he is Mavis's very favourite singer, and I would like to have been able to get a signed photo for her. It is pandemonium outside all evening, quite exciting really, but I am on the inside, and I still can't get near him! When he comes into the lift, he is surrounded by so many people, that I am crowded up in the corner and barely have room to operate the handle. (You didn't think I pushed a button, did you? No such technology here!) I'm really rather sad when I discover that Johnny is leaving the next morning, as it has been very exciting having him stay here - really brightened up my life! There are still girls outside the hotel, and I hear lots of screams when he finally leaves - I wonder if any of them managed to get his autograph? Tex Ritter. Following Johnny Ray came Tex Ritter and a very peculiar friend. The friend is a hypnotist, he proves his powers by hypnotising Tex Ritter, his manager, and Mr. Spitzer, they are all slumped in their chairs in the front hall lounge, and other guests think that they are drunk! Whenever the hypnotist comes into the lift, he looks at me with deep brown, rather mysterious eyes, he says he's going to hypnotise me, but after having seen what happened to the others, there's no way this man is going to hypnotise me, and I refuse to look at him. But he catches me out when he speaks to me, and automatically I turn to look at him, I start to feel very strange - I panic and tell him to stop it, which, thankfully, he does. But I don't trust him, I know he wants to hypnotise me, I'm quite a bolshie little piece, usually able to take charge of a situation, but this man frightens me, so I make a point of not looking into his eyes again. Tex Ritter, on the other hand, is really nice, and the way he dresses makes me laugh. He is always in full cowboy gear, complete with tall Stetson and high-heeled boots with very pointed toes, which he frequently trips over! The Sheffield Telegraph reports Mavis' 21st birthday party.March 30th is Mavis's 21st birthday and we are going to hire a hall, there is going to be a huge party. We have a terrific time; a photographer from the Sheffield Telegraph & Star came to take photographs. A crowd of us go back to our house to play cards until the early hours. I stay up for as long as I can because Keith is there, and I really fancy him, he's tall and dark and handsome and is very fit because he plays football. He's 22, which is too old for me, or rather, I am too young for him, but he is really nice to me and most lads of his age aren't, and he lets me sit on his knee. Unfortunately it is my weekend on the switchboard, and I have to be up early - so reluctantly I have to leave them enjoying themselves. I rather think the other girls are glad I have gone; now they can have Keith's undivided attention. (If only I could have known then, that one day, I would have Keith's undivided attention, I would have gone to bed a much happier girl!)