Old Cornelius

The history books include my birthplace, Jarrow, for at least three defining reasons. At St.Paul's, Bede chronicled the story of Christianity 1300 years ago.

In 1832 the last man to be hung and gibbeted in England, William Jobling (more of whom in a forthcoming Suite101 article), met his end in Jarrow.

And in October 1936, 200 men from a town with 75 percent of its male population out of work walked to London to present a petition to the Prime Minister. The Jarrow Crusade was a potent symbol of the economic depression of the thirties, with its ill-clad, dignified heroes on a hopeless mission.

Con Whalen was one of those men. None of them were in the peak of fitness after years on subsistence diets forced on them by unemployment and Con, at 5-feet tall and size 3 shoes, was an unlikely member of the chosen 200. They set off on October 5, marching through industrial towns, many little better off than Jarrow. There was tremendous support on route, with fellow workers (or ex-workers) providing field kitchens for the journey. However, their arrival, 291 miles later, in the capital was to prove a disappointment.

The demonstration rally in Hyde Park was poorly attended and the 12,000-name petition handed in to Parliament by the M.P. for Jarrow, Ellen Wilkinson, was ignored. The Prime Minister, Baldwin, refused to see the marchers' representatives.

It was said that Adolf Hitler was the man who saved Jarrow. When the Navy demanded replacement warships, Jarrow and its workforce of shipbuilders were needed once again.

Con Whalen worked more often now. After serving the war effort in Palestine he returned to the shipyards and was in employment up to his retirement at 65 in 1974.

But what has this to do with folk-music? Well, Con's obituary in the Times caught my eye because of my Jarrow connections and my interest in its history, and I was fascinated by the following paragraph: "In retirement he enjoyed music. Though he could not read it, he had a good ear for a tune and was adept on the flageolet. On this, and on the mandolin, which he also picked up, self-taught, he loved to play the Irish melodies that are part of Tyneside's immigrant folk culture."

This is what I found so amazing, this common ground of culture and tradition that links me somehow to a man I never met. I taught myself mandolin when I was still at school in Jarrow, inspired by the Irish champion piccolo player, John Doonan, from neighbouring Hebburn, who performed in a concert to raise funds to furnish our sixth-form common rooms. A couple of trips to the local folk-club, where Hedgehog Pie entertained, and I was hooked. I didn't know it was "Irish immigrant" music, I just knew it was thrilling and going to be part of my life from then on.

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