Whisky Galore!
by Derek Freeman
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: In this piece of writing, I recount experiences of my early working years after leaving school. The majority tells of working at the local distillery and the methods used to smuggle whisky from under the watchful eye of Her Majesty’s Customs & Excise. There is also a mention of a certain Customs Officer with a briefcase. No doubt there are rumours of what happened on the day a fire almost devastated the distillery, but this is my version. I also tell of what happened the night thousands of gallons of whisky flooded the bottling hall.
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Finger-nails?
At fifteen years old I left South Queensferry Secondary School with a piece of paper declaring that I had reached a reasonable standard in all the subjects taught.
My Junior Leaving Certificate was presented to me by the then head teacher Mr Peter Somerville. The following week I began work in Hepworths, a tailors shop at South Bridge in Edinburgh. The same business is now known as ‘Next’. I was only employed by Hepworths for a matter of weeks before I was offered employment by the local Distillery in Queensferry.
This was the second distillery to stand on this site; the first was destroyed by fire in the late nineteen-forties. This building was not a true distillery, but a blending bottling plant, where malt and other whiskies were blended before being bottled. There was also a Cooperage where casks were repaired and a Case Factory for the production of wooden cases.
During my first day, I was introduced to the Case Factory. In this two storey red brick building, wooden cases were constructed for various brands of whisky.
Production began with large wooden batons being delivered to the premises. As Health and Safety in the late fifties and early sixties was non existent, these batons, many over twenty feet in length and exceptionally heavy, were lifted from a lorry by two men and placed on the shoulder of a third who carried it into the Factory.
The Manual Handling Regulations, which came into force in 1992, concentrate on the way in which materials can be handled, but does not specify a maximum weight. (See World Wide Web for more information on this subject.)
Sawers operated the many types of power saws. The wood being cut to the correct size before the brand of whisky the case would contain was printed on what would be the side of the case.
Most of this wood originated in Norway and other parts of Europe and in doing so often contained large pieces of shrapnel from shells and other exploding missiles from the Second World War. In consequence, the saw blades required sharpening on a regular basis.
Shrapnel also caused the wood to shudder and bounce when being cut and could, if the operator was not extremely careful, throw their hand towards the saw blade. Not only was the operator of the saw in danger, but also a second employee who stood to the rear to collect small pieces of wood known as lattice work. These pieces of lattice were used in wooden cases to hold the bottles in place. Any lapse in concentration while collecting these small pieces could mean damage to, or loss of one or more fingers. Although pieces of wood were available to pull the lattice work away from the saw blade, few employees made use of them.
One accident in particular saw John, who was in his mid twenties, lose part of his right hand. Exactly what happened is unclear, but he ran from the building to the First Aid Room minus large pieces of three fingers. A search of the area for John’s fingers was eventually successful, but it was too late for them to be reattached to his hand.
Whisky case construction was carried out on the upper floor by female employees operating nailing machines. The individual pieces of wood were placed in the machine and with the use of a foot pedal, the wood was nailed together. These machines were only a few feet apart and the female employees had a tendency of chatting to each other as they worked.
Considerable care was required when operating nailing machines and any lapse in concentration would mean a thumb or index finger firmly attached to a piece of wood by a one and a half inch nail. Again Health & Safety was not a priority and this type of accident was a regular occurrence. Although the finger or thumb in question would remain attached to the hand, considerable pain was experienced because of a temporary lapse.
A Few Drams, Some Sawdust & A Cigarette
Because of the amount of wood used each day, sawdust in great quantities was produced.
A large electric motor was used to the same effect as a domestic vacuum cleaner. The sawdust was drawn into large aluminium tubes at each machine and deposited in Hessian sacks in what was known as the Sawdust House. This was a large windowless room attached to the case factory where sacks were secured to the opposite end of the tubes. The Sawdust House could hold well over one hundred large sacks full of sawdust; which, collected on a regular basis, was utilised in the production of paper.
For obvious reasons and with the exception of the canteen and cloakrooms, the whole area of the warehouse was a No Smoking area. For those that could not wait until lunch time for their dose of nicotine the cloakroom was a favourite place for a cigarette. It was not unusual to see smoke drifting from a toilet cubicle and the attendant threatening hell and damnation on the employee who was smoking.
Jim and I decided that to avoid any unpleasantness with the attendant we would have a smoke when we felt like it. It was only a matter of entering the Sawdust House and climbing to the top of the sacks full of sawdust. Approximately six feet from the ceiling we removed one sack and entered a cosy comfortable ‘Smoke Room’. Replacing the sack when inside it appeared to anyone entering that the sacks were solidly built from the floor to the ceiling. Jim and I could relax, comfortably concealed in our hiding place where we could enjoy a cigarette and a glass of whisky.
Because of the amount of waste wood generated, there was a large furnace to the rear of the Case Factory. Next to this furnace lay an open railway wagon used to recycle broken glass; by accident or by design, there was always a large volume of broken glass? With the assistance of a Railway Porter’s Barrow a metal bin half full of glass was brought to the railway wagon.
One of the duties of the Customs and Excise officers was to ensure no duty-free alcohol left the premises, but they drew the line when it came to looking through a bin of broken glass. This dereliction of duty by the Customs was to our advantage, especially so when the broken glass often concealed one or two bottles of spirits.
Always ready to help, a Case Factory employee would be available to assist Jean in disposing of the broken glass and any alcohol that had been smuggled from the Bottling Hall. This was a regular occurrence and alcohol was readily available to anyone who wanted it.
When whisky is first distilled it is introduced to different types of oak wood casks to allow the spirit to mature; during this process various impurities are drawn from the alcohol into the wood. Should there be a scarcity of alcohol in either the Case Factory or the Cooperage, there were always casks awaiting repairs outside the Coopers Shop. Older employees were aware that if they removed the bung, the wooden stopper with which the cask is sealed, in most cases a small amount of alcohol could be obtained, but this alcohol was also full of impurities that would have a detrimental effect on the body.
Tony, our charge-hand in the Case Factory, was one of those employees and whilst working overtime on a Saturday morning he obtained a substantial amount of this liquid. A short time later, Tony was dead. Whether it was the result of drinking what he drained from the cask or some other cause remains unknown, but for a while it discouraged other employees from drinking this liquid.
Some of these impurities were instantly recognisable in the form of burnt wood and charcoal from inside the cask. This then required the use of a cloth to filter out the debris; hence the old Scots saying of ‘He would drink it through a shitey cloot.’
Customs & Excise!
I had only been employed in the Case Factory approximately a year when I was offered a new position in the Bottling Hall working with Customs & Excise. This was to be my new place of work and was one of the better positions in the bond, if not one of the best.
Jim was employed in the Bottling Hall assisting Customs & Excise testing spirit was the correct strength before bottling, the bottles were filled with the precise amount and that ancillary machinery was in working order. Jim had held this position for a number of years, but temptation had become too great and the few extra bottles he had taken became his nemesis.
Six conveyor belts would normally produce King George 1V and other brands, while two bottled Gordon’s Gin. The bottles were filled by machine and seals secured by female employees who were strategically placed the length of the conveyor also carrying out the various tasks of labelling, inspection and polishing; finally they were wrapped and packed into wooden or fibreboard cases.
With the use of a hydrometer and thermometer, I assisted the Customs & Excise in checking the specific gravity of the spirit, a comparator to ensure it was the correct colour, and Customs equipment to check the amount in each bottle. All the foregoing being completed and correct, we were allowed to begin bottling.
I had been working in this new environment for a few weeks when I was called to the manager’s office and informed I would be promoted to the position of Charge Hand. What had I done to deserve this position and a raise in wages? I could only think that it was down to hard work and keeping my mouth shut. On reflection, I should have continued in the same vein, but life changes you and the decisions you make.
The Wash House was a separate building where bottles were sterilised and cleaned before entering the bottling hall by means of a metal conveyor belt large enough to allow only bottles to pass to through. Each bottling machine had its own supply from the wash house and at the end of each day when the last of the bottles were cleared from the conveyor a solid metal plate was dropped across the supply tunnel. Customs and Excise rules dictated that it was secured by means of a Customs padlock. The valves on each blending and bottling vat were also secured by similar locks.
Ways & Means
It didn’t take long to learn what methods were used to remove whisky from the bonded warehouse, specifically the bottling hall; they were numerous and I even introduced one new one.
His nickname was ‘Pat’, he was the supervisor of the Wash House and he, like almost everyone else, enjoyed a dram. As supervisors and other members of staff were not liable to a body search, I approached Pat and informed him that I had an idea that could prove beneficial to both of us. Pat agreed and at cessation of work and before I secured the metal plate on the bottle conveyor, I would propel two or three bottles of whisky to the eager hands waiting in the Wash House. We would meet later and I would receive my share of the spoils. This profitable pilfering continued for a number of months.
As a young man of seventeen I really hadn’t seen much of life and some of what I did see shocked me.
To ensure production began as soon as possible, Frank and I and several engineers began work fifteen minutes before the female employees. At seven fifteen in the morning we would unlock the sixteen or so Customs padlocks and open the valves of the vats in use to initiate the spirit to the filters and bottling machines.
John was an engineer and John’s first stop each morning was table eight used specifically for Gordon’s Gin. Following three or four measures of neat gin, John would be violently sick. This was my first introduction to alcoholism, but sadly would not be my last.
Almost all male employees in the bond enjoyed a small whisky, but this was limited to four thirty when work in the bond normally finished. However, there were employees who had never drunk alcohol before working in the distillery, and because of the ease of which it was available, eventually became alcoholics.
We completed our working day at four-forty-five, fifteen minutes later than the female employees and the rest of the bond; during which time we would close the drain valves of the vats and secure the numerous Customs locks.
It was almost Christmas and I had been told to conceal two bottles of Kings Legend whisky beneath my overalls; this I was told was normal practice at this time of year. Kings Legend was known as a flat quart and was very easily concealed. It now became clear why we worked fifteen minutes later each evening. However, being human, two bottles were never enough and eventually two bottles turned to three and three to four and so on, but four would be my limit, but another workmate somehow managed to conceal six bottles. As security and customs were involved on each occasion there was never a problem when leaving the factory.
At the time of these handouts, I was working part-time at a Miners Welfare Club and the Club Steward looked favourably on exchanging bottles of whisky for other brands of spirits and cigarettes.
Our weekly wage packet was approximately £13.50 per week, but we certainly profited in other ways.
By The Way!
During the early 1960s and because of some strange legislation in one state of the United States of America, normal whisky was not allowed to be imported. This resulted in a sweet colourless liquid almost the consistency of syrup being added to a certain brand of whisky and for some unknown reason this made the importation legal. Although not classed as a liqueur, I have no doubt if it had been on sale in this country it would have been very popular.
Oops!
Invariably there were times when certain gentlemen from Customs & Excise decided they would have a few extra bottles of spirits. Mr Jobsworth was standing at the Edinburgh bus stop outside which was then the Queensferry Arms, but is now the Orocco Pier.
Mr Jobsworth was never seen without his leather briefcase and that night was no different except for some reason it slipped from his grasp; perhaps it was a wee bit too heavy?
As the briefcase hit the footpath, there was a distinct sound of breaking glass. At first and very slowly liquid with the sweet smell of whisky began leaking from the brown leather briefcase. Eventually a steady stream of golden spirit was flowing across the footpath and into the gutter. It could not have happened to a better man.
Face scarlet with embarrassment, Mr Jobsworth could do nothing but stand there and let it happen. He eventually boarded the bus to Edinburgh, with whisky, still dripping from his now saturated hand luggage.
It’s A Flood!
An incident where thousands of gallons of Black and White whisky flooded the bottling hall happened when working overtime.
Before filling a blending vat from the floor above, the vats were checked to ensure the drain valves were closed and secured by a Customs padlock and that the inspection hatch at the rear was shut. When these checks were completed, the casks of whisky on the floor above, which could number up to thirty or more, would be turned to the draining position over a foot deep trough which was almost as long as the building was wide. The spirit pouring from the twenty to thirty casks drained into the trough and from there into whatever vat the plugged top had been removed.
Once the casks were empty, distilled water was added to the vat and with the use of compressed air, the two liquids were thoroughly mixed. Following tests by the Customs & Excise, it was now ready for bottling.
The problem on the night of the flood was the employee responsible for checking the inspection hatch had, although having walked past the hatch at the back of the vat, failed to notice it was open.
As I walked along the raised platform at the rear of the vats, I saw the open hatch from which the whisky was pouring. An attempt was made to close it, but the pressure was too great.
The personnel responsible for filling the vat were contacted, but twenty-five to thirty butts, each containing five hundred litres of whisky, were pouring their contents into the trough and from there it was flowing into the vat.
It is a difficult task to turn so many casks to the upright position as a maximum of only two casks can be moved from the trough at any one time, one from each end, and when they have been moved, the bung must be replaced to seal the cask.
No doubt the insurers paid for the loss of spirit, but no one could make up for lost production and the time spent clearing the spirit from the Bottling Hall.
A Large Fire!
It was lunch-time, we were in the canteen; the fire alarm sounded and as Frank and I were responsible for the Bottling Hall roll call we made our way to the Gatehouse.
On arrival we were requested to take a fire extinguisher each and make our way to the Material Stores on the third floor. Still unsure whether this was a drill or a genuine fire, we made our way to the stair well. As we reached the first floor, we slowly opened the fire door to ensure there was no sign of fire, then continued to the second floor where we again checked for fire.
On reaching the third floor, we could smell burning and slowly opened the heavy fire door. We were faced by a wall of hot blue smoke, through which we could see the orange-red glow of a fiercely burning fire.
Were we about to risk our lives in an attempt to tackle this fire? ‘There’s no fucking way I’m going in there, Frank,’ I said.
Dropping the fire extinguishers for any other silly buggers who decided to be heroes, we quickly closed the fire door and returned to the Gatehouse.
The Material Stores held thousands of labels, aluminium seals and hundreds of thousands of cases known as fibre boards. Made from corrugated cardboard, these cases were delivered to the warehouse as flat packs and when required were opened, stapled together and transported to the Bottling Hall by conveyor belt. These packs of fibre boards were stacked on pallets to a height of almost ten feet; with almost every square foot of the floor covered and no sprinkler system, a fire here could spread with impunity.
The floor directly above the Material Stores was part of the bonded warehouse and contained various sizes of casks all full of high strength, highly inflammable spirit. Should the fire have reach this part of the warehouse, it was doubtful if the building could have survived?
Although this floor, like all others, was constructed from reinforced concrete; the heat from the fire below was causing the expansion of the reinforcing rods, which in turn was responsible for pieces of concrete splintering not only from the ceiling above the fire, but also on the floor above where the casks lay. As each minute passed, the floor was gradually becoming weaker.
The management requested volunteers to enter the warehouse on the floor above the fire and remove the casks from the danger area. During this time water was sprayed on the floor to cool the concrete and prevent the rubber soles of footwear becoming tacky and sticking to the floor. As clouds of water vapour wafted around the volunteers, the large casks were manhandled and removed to a safe area of the bond. Although there was no shortage of volunteers to remove the casks; which probably saved the bonded warehouse from burning down for a second time, no letter of thanks, or other form of gratitude was shown by the management.
In most cases, when a building is ablaze, there are a number of problems to overcome. Reaching the seat of the fire can be an extremely dangerous and difficult task, but this fire proved more difficult to control than most. In this case the fire was protected on the south side by small glass windows reinforced with wire. The second major problem was the position of the store itself. Although the windows facing the Loan, the steep hill that ran along the east side of the building, were made from normal glass, there was approximately twenty feet of office space and then a concrete wall separating the offices from the Material Stores. The only way to reach this floor was from the stairwell Frank and I had climbed previously, or by using one of two elevators, which during a fire is prohibited.
The fire continued to burn for the next six to seven hours before being brought under control and eventually extinguished. Although never proved, it was rumoured the fire was set deliberately by a disgruntled employee.
Offices on the same floor, although damaged by smoke and water, were left untouched by the fire. Other damage was put down to over-zealous fire fighters removing bottles of spirit in an attempt to prevent the spread of fire should it have reached that area.
I continued to be employed by the Distillers Agency Ltd. till shortly after being married in 1966. My new employers would be the Imperial Chemical Industries in Grangemouth, but that’s another story, albeit a short one.
Short Not Sweet
I said goodbye to the Distillers Agency in South Queensferry and began work at the Imperial Chemical Industries in Grangemouth. Due to the various coloured materials they produced for dyeing different products it was known locally as the Dye Works. Due to shift work the remuneration was slightly better than my previous employment, but the work was strenuous and physical effort was the norm day and night.
I was working in Q4, a large shed/warehouse where varied processes were carried out. Mr Grumpy was our Supervisor, a rough and ready sort of man, one that made sure the work was done. I am sure he was paid by results, the rest of us doing the work and he was being paid for our efforts.
One of the chemicals we worked with was 1-Aminoanthraquinone. This was an orange coloured chemical, which, following production in a chemical reaction, was dried in large ovens. The glass marble to fist-size pieces were milled to a fine powder and stored in large forty-five gallon drums. A variety of colours were worked with, but they were predominantly orange and purple.
I had heard rumours associated with the Dye Works regarding employees returning home with their skin various colours, but thought they were only rumours; I soon learned different.
Each morning and whenever I awoke the white pillow and sheets of our bed were stained with the varied colours I had been working with. The colours of the different chemicals had entered the pores of the body, or had been ingested when breathing, resulting in multi-coloured bed sheets and pillow cases. This continued for the time I was employed by the ICI.
On the completion of each shift, we reported to the Supervisor’s office and completed any required paper work. When leaning on a bench in this office the arms of my overalls became wet, but thinking it was only water, I didn’t pay much attention. It was only later when my arms began to burn that I realised that this ‘water’ was acid. Attending the works doctor, he advised me quote ‘If you want to keep your health, you should find another job; this isn’t a healthy place to work.’ unquote.
It was now imperative that I found new employment and I was happy to accept anything to fill a gap, as long as I could get away from the ICI and the filth of the products worked with. It was normal practice to shower when work was finished, but to remove the chemical staining from hands and arms there were bowls of bleach in which to remove the ingrained colours before showering. This practice of cleaning hands in bleach was normal for almost everyone employed there.
Tomsgate Pallets had been in production for a few years and produced wooden pallets for various industries. There was no intelligence required to work in this environment, only brute strength. The majority of employees, if not brain-dead, used very little of what they had.
The only requirement in this factory was to hammer two inch nails into wood. In some cases those employees were so cretinous they would lose their temper with either the wood or nails they were working with. As the old saying goes, a bad worker blames his tool, even though the tool used here was only a hammer, it could be a very dangerous weapon in the hands of a monkey.
Employees would rather spend their lunch-hour fighting or gambling than doing anything constructive.
This then was my new workplace for the next two months and I only just managed to stay clear of the works bully and the monkeys with hammers.
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: In this piece of writing, I recount experiences of my early working years after leaving school. The majority tells of working at the local distillery and the methods used to smuggle whisky from under the watchful eye of Her Majesty’s Customs & Excise. There is also a mention of a certain Customs Officer with a briefcase. No doubt there are rumours of what happened on the day a fire almost devastated the distillery, but this is my version. I also tell of what happened the night thousands of gallons of whisky flooded the bottling hall.
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Finger-nails?
At fifteen years old I left South Queensferry Secondary School with a piece of paper declaring that I had reached a reasonable standard in all the subjects taught.
My Junior Leaving Certificate was presented to me by the then head teacher Mr Peter Somerville. The following week I began work in Hepworths, a tailors shop at South Bridge in Edinburgh. The same business is now known as ‘Next’. I was only employed by Hepworths for a matter of weeks before I was offered employment by the local Distillery in Queensferry.
This was the second distillery to stand on this site; the first was destroyed by fire in the late nineteen-forties. This building was not a true distillery, but a blending bottling plant, where malt and other whiskies were blended before being bottled. There was also a Cooperage where casks were repaired and a Case Factory for the production of wooden cases.
During my first day, I was introduced to the Case Factory. In this two storey red brick building, wooden cases were constructed for various brands of whisky.
Production began with large wooden batons being delivered to the premises. As Health and Safety in the late fifties and early sixties was non existent, these batons, many over twenty feet in length and exceptionally heavy, were lifted from a lorry by two men and placed on the shoulder of a third who carried it into the Factory.
The Manual Handling Regulations, which came into force in 1992, concentrate on the way in which materials can be handled, but does not specify a maximum weight. (See World Wide Web for more information on this subject.)
Sawers operated the many types of power saws. The wood being cut to the correct size before the brand of whisky the case would contain was printed on what would be the side of the case.
Most of this wood originated in Norway and other parts of Europe and in doing so often contained large pieces of shrapnel from shells and other exploding missiles from the Second World War. In consequence, the saw blades required sharpening on a regular basis.
Shrapnel also caused the wood to shudder and bounce when being cut and could, if the operator was not extremely careful, throw their hand towards the saw blade. Not only was the operator of the saw in danger, but also a second employee who stood to the rear to collect small pieces of wood known as lattice work. These pieces of lattice were used in wooden cases to hold the bottles in place. Any lapse in concentration while collecting these small pieces could mean damage to, or loss of one or more fingers. Although pieces of wood were available to pull the lattice work away from the saw blade, few employees made use of them.
One accident in particular saw John, who was in his mid twenties, lose part of his right hand. Exactly what happened is unclear, but he ran from the building to the First Aid Room minus large pieces of three fingers. A search of the area for John’s fingers was eventually successful, but it was too late for them to be reattached to his hand.
Whisky case construction was carried out on the upper floor by female employees operating nailing machines. The individual pieces of wood were placed in the machine and with the use of a foot pedal, the wood was nailed together. These machines were only a few feet apart and the female employees had a tendency of chatting to each other as they worked.
Considerable care was required when operating nailing machines and any lapse in concentration would mean a thumb or index finger firmly attached to a piece of wood by a one and a half inch nail. Again Health & Safety was not a priority and this type of accident was a regular occurrence. Although the finger or thumb in question would remain attached to the hand, considerable pain was experienced because of a temporary lapse.
A Few Drams, Some Sawdust & A Cigarette
Because of the amount of wood used each day, sawdust in great quantities was produced.
A large electric motor was used to the same effect as a domestic vacuum cleaner. The sawdust was drawn into large aluminium tubes at each machine and deposited in Hessian sacks in what was known as the Sawdust House. This was a large windowless room attached to the case factory where sacks were secured to the opposite end of the tubes. The Sawdust House could hold well over one hundred large sacks full of sawdust; which, collected on a regular basis, was utilised in the production of paper.
For obvious reasons and with the exception of the canteen and cloakrooms, the whole area of the warehouse was a No Smoking area. For those that could not wait until lunch time for their dose of nicotine the cloakroom was a favourite place for a cigarette. It was not unusual to see smoke drifting from a toilet cubicle and the attendant threatening hell and damnation on the employee who was smoking.
Jim and I decided that to avoid any unpleasantness with the attendant we would have a smoke when we felt like it. It was only a matter of entering the Sawdust House and climbing to the top of the sacks full of sawdust. Approximately six feet from the ceiling we removed one sack and entered a cosy comfortable ‘Smoke Room’. Replacing the sack when inside it appeared to anyone entering that the sacks were solidly built from the floor to the ceiling. Jim and I could relax, comfortably concealed in our hiding place where we could enjoy a cigarette and a glass of whisky.
Because of the amount of waste wood generated, there was a large furnace to the rear of the Case Factory. Next to this furnace lay an open railway wagon used to recycle broken glass; by accident or by design, there was always a large volume of broken glass? With the assistance of a Railway Porter’s Barrow a metal bin half full of glass was brought to the railway wagon.
One of the duties of the Customs and Excise officers was to ensure no duty-free alcohol left the premises, but they drew the line when it came to looking through a bin of broken glass. This dereliction of duty by the Customs was to our advantage, especially so when the broken glass often concealed one or two bottles of spirits.
Always ready to help, a Case Factory employee would be available to assist Jean in disposing of the broken glass and any alcohol that had been smuggled from the Bottling Hall. This was a regular occurrence and alcohol was readily available to anyone who wanted it.
When whisky is first distilled it is introduced to different types of oak wood casks to allow the spirit to mature; during this process various impurities are drawn from the alcohol into the wood. Should there be a scarcity of alcohol in either the Case Factory or the Cooperage, there were always casks awaiting repairs outside the Coopers Shop. Older employees were aware that if they removed the bung, the wooden stopper with which the cask is sealed, in most cases a small amount of alcohol could be obtained, but this alcohol was also full of impurities that would have a detrimental effect on the body.
Tony, our charge-hand in the Case Factory, was one of those employees and whilst working overtime on a Saturday morning he obtained a substantial amount of this liquid. A short time later, Tony was dead. Whether it was the result of drinking what he drained from the cask or some other cause remains unknown, but for a while it discouraged other employees from drinking this liquid.
Some of these impurities were instantly recognisable in the form of burnt wood and charcoal from inside the cask. This then required the use of a cloth to filter out the debris; hence the old Scots saying of ‘He would drink it through a shitey cloot.’
Customs & Excise!
I had only been employed in the Case Factory approximately a year when I was offered a new position in the Bottling Hall working with Customs & Excise. This was to be my new place of work and was one of the better positions in the bond, if not one of the best.
Jim was employed in the Bottling Hall assisting Customs & Excise testing spirit was the correct strength before bottling, the bottles were filled with the precise amount and that ancillary machinery was in working order. Jim had held this position for a number of years, but temptation had become too great and the few extra bottles he had taken became his nemesis.
Six conveyor belts would normally produce King George 1V and other brands, while two bottled Gordon’s Gin. The bottles were filled by machine and seals secured by female employees who were strategically placed the length of the conveyor also carrying out the various tasks of labelling, inspection and polishing; finally they were wrapped and packed into wooden or fibreboard cases.
With the use of a hydrometer and thermometer, I assisted the Customs & Excise in checking the specific gravity of the spirit, a comparator to ensure it was the correct colour, and Customs equipment to check the amount in each bottle. All the foregoing being completed and correct, we were allowed to begin bottling.
I had been working in this new environment for a few weeks when I was called to the manager’s office and informed I would be promoted to the position of Charge Hand. What had I done to deserve this position and a raise in wages? I could only think that it was down to hard work and keeping my mouth shut. On reflection, I should have continued in the same vein, but life changes you and the decisions you make.
The Wash House was a separate building where bottles were sterilised and cleaned before entering the bottling hall by means of a metal conveyor belt large enough to allow only bottles to pass to through. Each bottling machine had its own supply from the wash house and at the end of each day when the last of the bottles were cleared from the conveyor a solid metal plate was dropped across the supply tunnel. Customs and Excise rules dictated that it was secured by means of a Customs padlock. The valves on each blending and bottling vat were also secured by similar locks.
Ways & Means
It didn’t take long to learn what methods were used to remove whisky from the bonded warehouse, specifically the bottling hall; they were numerous and I even introduced one new one.
His nickname was ‘Pat’, he was the supervisor of the Wash House and he, like almost everyone else, enjoyed a dram. As supervisors and other members of staff were not liable to a body search, I approached Pat and informed him that I had an idea that could prove beneficial to both of us. Pat agreed and at cessation of work and before I secured the metal plate on the bottle conveyor, I would propel two or three bottles of whisky to the eager hands waiting in the Wash House. We would meet later and I would receive my share of the spoils. This profitable pilfering continued for a number of months.
As a young man of seventeen I really hadn’t seen much of life and some of what I did see shocked me.
To ensure production began as soon as possible, Frank and I and several engineers began work fifteen minutes before the female employees. At seven fifteen in the morning we would unlock the sixteen or so Customs padlocks and open the valves of the vats in use to initiate the spirit to the filters and bottling machines.
John was an engineer and John’s first stop each morning was table eight used specifically for Gordon’s Gin. Following three or four measures of neat gin, John would be violently sick. This was my first introduction to alcoholism, but sadly would not be my last.
Almost all male employees in the bond enjoyed a small whisky, but this was limited to four thirty when work in the bond normally finished. However, there were employees who had never drunk alcohol before working in the distillery, and because of the ease of which it was available, eventually became alcoholics.
We completed our working day at four-forty-five, fifteen minutes later than the female employees and the rest of the bond; during which time we would close the drain valves of the vats and secure the numerous Customs locks.
It was almost Christmas and I had been told to conceal two bottles of Kings Legend whisky beneath my overalls; this I was told was normal practice at this time of year. Kings Legend was known as a flat quart and was very easily concealed. It now became clear why we worked fifteen minutes later each evening. However, being human, two bottles were never enough and eventually two bottles turned to three and three to four and so on, but four would be my limit, but another workmate somehow managed to conceal six bottles. As security and customs were involved on each occasion there was never a problem when leaving the factory.
At the time of these handouts, I was working part-time at a Miners Welfare Club and the Club Steward looked favourably on exchanging bottles of whisky for other brands of spirits and cigarettes.
Our weekly wage packet was approximately £13.50 per week, but we certainly profited in other ways.
By The Way!
During the early 1960s and because of some strange legislation in one state of the United States of America, normal whisky was not allowed to be imported. This resulted in a sweet colourless liquid almost the consistency of syrup being added to a certain brand of whisky and for some unknown reason this made the importation legal. Although not classed as a liqueur, I have no doubt if it had been on sale in this country it would have been very popular.
Oops!
Invariably there were times when certain gentlemen from Customs & Excise decided they would have a few extra bottles of spirits. Mr Jobsworth was standing at the Edinburgh bus stop outside which was then the Queensferry Arms, but is now the Orocco Pier.
Mr Jobsworth was never seen without his leather briefcase and that night was no different except for some reason it slipped from his grasp; perhaps it was a wee bit too heavy?
As the briefcase hit the footpath, there was a distinct sound of breaking glass. At first and very slowly liquid with the sweet smell of whisky began leaking from the brown leather briefcase. Eventually a steady stream of golden spirit was flowing across the footpath and into the gutter. It could not have happened to a better man.
Face scarlet with embarrassment, Mr Jobsworth could do nothing but stand there and let it happen. He eventually boarded the bus to Edinburgh, with whisky, still dripping from his now saturated hand luggage.
It’s A Flood!
An incident where thousands of gallons of Black and White whisky flooded the bottling hall happened when working overtime.
Before filling a blending vat from the floor above, the vats were checked to ensure the drain valves were closed and secured by a Customs padlock and that the inspection hatch at the rear was shut. When these checks were completed, the casks of whisky on the floor above, which could number up to thirty or more, would be turned to the draining position over a foot deep trough which was almost as long as the building was wide. The spirit pouring from the twenty to thirty casks drained into the trough and from there into whatever vat the plugged top had been removed.
Once the casks were empty, distilled water was added to the vat and with the use of compressed air, the two liquids were thoroughly mixed. Following tests by the Customs & Excise, it was now ready for bottling.
The problem on the night of the flood was the employee responsible for checking the inspection hatch had, although having walked past the hatch at the back of the vat, failed to notice it was open.
As I walked along the raised platform at the rear of the vats, I saw the open hatch from which the whisky was pouring. An attempt was made to close it, but the pressure was too great.
The personnel responsible for filling the vat were contacted, but twenty-five to thirty butts, each containing five hundred litres of whisky, were pouring their contents into the trough and from there it was flowing into the vat.
It is a difficult task to turn so many casks to the upright position as a maximum of only two casks can be moved from the trough at any one time, one from each end, and when they have been moved, the bung must be replaced to seal the cask.
No doubt the insurers paid for the loss of spirit, but no one could make up for lost production and the time spent clearing the spirit from the Bottling Hall.
A Large Fire!
It was lunch-time, we were in the canteen; the fire alarm sounded and as Frank and I were responsible for the Bottling Hall roll call we made our way to the Gatehouse.
On arrival we were requested to take a fire extinguisher each and make our way to the Material Stores on the third floor. Still unsure whether this was a drill or a genuine fire, we made our way to the stair well. As we reached the first floor, we slowly opened the fire door to ensure there was no sign of fire, then continued to the second floor where we again checked for fire.
On reaching the third floor, we could smell burning and slowly opened the heavy fire door. We were faced by a wall of hot blue smoke, through which we could see the orange-red glow of a fiercely burning fire.
Were we about to risk our lives in an attempt to tackle this fire? ‘There’s no fucking way I’m going in there, Frank,’ I said.
Dropping the fire extinguishers for any other silly buggers who decided to be heroes, we quickly closed the fire door and returned to the Gatehouse.
The Material Stores held thousands of labels, aluminium seals and hundreds of thousands of cases known as fibre boards. Made from corrugated cardboard, these cases were delivered to the warehouse as flat packs and when required were opened, stapled together and transported to the Bottling Hall by conveyor belt. These packs of fibre boards were stacked on pallets to a height of almost ten feet; with almost every square foot of the floor covered and no sprinkler system, a fire here could spread with impunity.
The floor directly above the Material Stores was part of the bonded warehouse and contained various sizes of casks all full of high strength, highly inflammable spirit. Should the fire have reach this part of the warehouse, it was doubtful if the building could have survived?
Although this floor, like all others, was constructed from reinforced concrete; the heat from the fire below was causing the expansion of the reinforcing rods, which in turn was responsible for pieces of concrete splintering not only from the ceiling above the fire, but also on the floor above where the casks lay. As each minute passed, the floor was gradually becoming weaker.
The management requested volunteers to enter the warehouse on the floor above the fire and remove the casks from the danger area. During this time water was sprayed on the floor to cool the concrete and prevent the rubber soles of footwear becoming tacky and sticking to the floor. As clouds of water vapour wafted around the volunteers, the large casks were manhandled and removed to a safe area of the bond. Although there was no shortage of volunteers to remove the casks; which probably saved the bonded warehouse from burning down for a second time, no letter of thanks, or other form of gratitude was shown by the management.
In most cases, when a building is ablaze, there are a number of problems to overcome. Reaching the seat of the fire can be an extremely dangerous and difficult task, but this fire proved more difficult to control than most. In this case the fire was protected on the south side by small glass windows reinforced with wire. The second major problem was the position of the store itself. Although the windows facing the Loan, the steep hill that ran along the east side of the building, were made from normal glass, there was approximately twenty feet of office space and then a concrete wall separating the offices from the Material Stores. The only way to reach this floor was from the stairwell Frank and I had climbed previously, or by using one of two elevators, which during a fire is prohibited.
The fire continued to burn for the next six to seven hours before being brought under control and eventually extinguished. Although never proved, it was rumoured the fire was set deliberately by a disgruntled employee.
Offices on the same floor, although damaged by smoke and water, were left untouched by the fire. Other damage was put down to over-zealous fire fighters removing bottles of spirit in an attempt to prevent the spread of fire should it have reached that area.
I continued to be employed by the Distillers Agency Ltd. till shortly after being married in 1966. My new employers would be the Imperial Chemical Industries in Grangemouth, but that’s another story, albeit a short one.
Short Not Sweet
I said goodbye to the Distillers Agency in South Queensferry and began work at the Imperial Chemical Industries in Grangemouth. Due to the various coloured materials they produced for dyeing different products it was known locally as the Dye Works. Due to shift work the remuneration was slightly better than my previous employment, but the work was strenuous and physical effort was the norm day and night.
I was working in Q4, a large shed/warehouse where varied processes were carried out. Mr Grumpy was our Supervisor, a rough and ready sort of man, one that made sure the work was done. I am sure he was paid by results, the rest of us doing the work and he was being paid for our efforts.
One of the chemicals we worked with was 1-Aminoanthraquinone. This was an orange coloured chemical, which, following production in a chemical reaction, was dried in large ovens. The glass marble to fist-size pieces were milled to a fine powder and stored in large forty-five gallon drums. A variety of colours were worked with, but they were predominantly orange and purple.
I had heard rumours associated with the Dye Works regarding employees returning home with their skin various colours, but thought they were only rumours; I soon learned different.
Each morning and whenever I awoke the white pillow and sheets of our bed were stained with the varied colours I had been working with. The colours of the different chemicals had entered the pores of the body, or had been ingested when breathing, resulting in multi-coloured bed sheets and pillow cases. This continued for the time I was employed by the ICI.
On the completion of each shift, we reported to the Supervisor’s office and completed any required paper work. When leaning on a bench in this office the arms of my overalls became wet, but thinking it was only water, I didn’t pay much attention. It was only later when my arms began to burn that I realised that this ‘water’ was acid. Attending the works doctor, he advised me quote ‘If you want to keep your health, you should find another job; this isn’t a healthy place to work.’ unquote.
It was now imperative that I found new employment and I was happy to accept anything to fill a gap, as long as I could get away from the ICI and the filth of the products worked with. It was normal practice to shower when work was finished, but to remove the chemical staining from hands and arms there were bowls of bleach in which to remove the ingrained colours before showering. This practice of cleaning hands in bleach was normal for almost everyone employed there.
Tomsgate Pallets had been in production for a few years and produced wooden pallets for various industries. There was no intelligence required to work in this environment, only brute strength. The majority of employees, if not brain-dead, used very little of what they had.
The only requirement in this factory was to hammer two inch nails into wood. In some cases those employees were so cretinous they would lose their temper with either the wood or nails they were working with. As the old saying goes, a bad worker blames his tool, even though the tool used here was only a hammer, it could be a very dangerous weapon in the hands of a monkey.
Employees would rather spend their lunch-hour fighting or gambling than doing anything constructive.
This then was my new workplace for the next two months and I only just managed to stay clear of the works bully and the monkeys with hammers.
About the Author
Derek Freeman was born in South Queensferry (the Ferry) in the shadow of the Forth Rail Bridge. He now lives in Bo’ness. He has been inspired to write about growing up in the Ferry in the 1950’s and 1960’s. His collection of memoirs, A View from the Crossroads, is a McStorytellers publication.