No Pedlars, Hawkers or Salesmen

When I was doing my early morning paper run for Bairds Newsagents a door plate which I saw at a house in Morningside read No pedlars, hawkers or salesmen. 

I didn't have a clue what the first two terms meant but always found the sign intriguing.

When I read the sentence out aloud  it had a certain rhythm to it - like the Cher song, Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves. Even now, there's a medieval feel to it.

It made me reflect on how lucky we were in some respects to be brought up in Oxgangs.

There was a certain richness of experience in our lives which might have been missing if we'd been brought up elsewhere. We got the chance to meet all these wonderful characters and shared in the vibrancy and colour of communal living. If we'd stayed in the leafy suburbs of Morningside life would have been quieter and much more solitary.

So, No Pedlars, Hawkers or Salesmen certainly wasn't the kind of door-plate that appeared on any door in The Stair. And perhaps if there had been such a notice it might have read as below!

'Another salesman was a Pakistani gentleman who my brother Douglas irreverently called 'Sambo'. I have no idea what his real name was but I always admired him because it took guts to do what he did. He wore a traditional trench coat like Humphrey Bogart and carried a large brown suitcase stuffed with all manner of goods.' Liz Blades

As Liz says one of the many itinerant pedlars, hawkers and salesmen who visited The Stair each week was a small Pakistani or Indian travelling salesman.

We both recall how he was always dressed the same way, no matter whether it was summer or winter, he wore a fawn coloured raincoat/trench-coat.

My mum seemed to recall that he wore a turban - I don't recall whether he did or not. If he did, the odds are that he was Indian.

As Liz said she admired him - it took a lot of chutzpah to go from household to household trying to peddle wares.

He was always impeccably mannered with a ready smile on his face.

For me he was like the rag n bone man because of his suitcase full of curiosities.

The only occasion I recall us getting something from him was a little tin of polish which he recommended to me for cleaning my bicycle.

Ironically, I don't think we bought it - instead it was a free sample to tempt us to purchase the normal size tin. I believe the manufacturers produced these sample tins for that purpose.

I wonder what happened to him and his family over the years and decades?

His was such an exotic appearance and visitation that he left an indelible mark on my memory.

But two stories we do know about is that of Lal Khatri and Baldev Singh from the book Moving Worlds, the Personal Collections Of Twenty One Immigrants To Edinburgh which give an interesting insight into the world of the Pakistani or Indian gentleman with the suitcase who used to visit the residents at The Stair. 

Lal Khatri left the Punjab in 1929 and came to Edinburgh.

He was advised by a friend...If you get a pedlar's licence from the police and you buy some stuff and you sell it, then that will give you some income to live on if you are lucky. He then goes on to say...I managed to get the licence and it was very good from then onwards. Things were hard but I could always get enough money to buy bread and pay for my room and all that sort of thing. We sold all sorts-shirts, dresses and blouses. I sold what I had with me and took orders for anybody wanting anything...the prices were quite reasonable but lots of people had no money. Even one eleven-ha'penny article took two or three visits for customers to pay for. Some people banged the door in front of you...others would open it...Oh, some of those people became friends through that, and others, of course, had no time for you at all.

Baldev Singh with Pappinder in 1969

Baldev Singh came to Edinburgh in 1958.

He was born in Lahore, Pakistan in 1947. He is a Sikh. 

He says...my grandfather came to Edinburgh as a door to door salesman...He used to sell shirts, ties, hankies, blouses, things like that. They all did that when they first came here...But 90% o' Sikhs went roond the doors sellin' with a suitcase, took orders and delivered the stuff. It's freedom to them, you see. Naebody but themselves, naebody tellin' them what to do. They used to go whenever they felt like it...

Even Oxgangs.

The Wednesday Profile #7 Ben Mackenzie, Hairdresser

When do you know you've really made it as a businessman? 

In the days leading up to the start of the new school term in August after the summer holidays my brother Iain and I (6/2 Oxgangs Avenue); the Hanlons (6/7); and dozens of other small boys would be taken up the hill to Ben Mackenzie's to get our hair cut to look smart for our return to Hunters Tryst for the start of another school year. 

Despite some of the images of unhappy kids produced over the years by artists and comments from others I quite enjoyed the whole barbering experience.

Ben's shop was located at the back of the Oxgangs Broadway shops at number 18 on the south facing side. 

It was the furthest away shop from The Stair. 

Ben was a great advert for his business - neat, immaculate and dapper, with brylcreamed greying hair and a little moustache; in some ways he was a walking advertisement for his profession. But not necessarily a good barber. 

Ronnie Cutt felt you were 'lucky to come out with your ears intact!' Whilst Doreen Rutherford Black said her sister, Margaret, went in for a ladies trim and he mistook her for a boy! Margaret retorted that her mum 'made me wear a hat for a month lol!'

Anne Mckenna said 'I remember my mum complaining about his poor barbering. I think she sent my dad back to complain or went herself at some point...the lack of mothers' involvement probably explains how he got away with it for so long.'

We usually had to sit in a queue in his shop but there were always some decent comics to sit and read. 

Also older men would 'pull your leg' whilst chatting up the mothers - it was my mother who usually always took us along to ensure Ben did what was wanted. 

When the great moment arrived to have your hair cut, because we were small, we had to sit on this little cross bench which was laid across the arm rests of the barber's chair which I thought was pretty cool.

Ben was never this bad, but the barber bears more than a passing resemblance to him!

Ben would set to work and the haircut was always finished off with some 'jungle juice' which he plastered our hair down with; as I had wavy hair I liked this and regretted it never stayed that way for long.

We were never allowed number ones which the Hanlons got. 

The only way we ever got a number one was when Iain and I gave ourselves self-administered haircuts at home one day when my mother was out at work!

Norma Fraser said 'My dad always said (when my brothers were sent there) down to the wood. One style only.' Similarly Brian N Cherie Clement said 'when I was young I went down with my old man and used to ask for a trim; my dad obviously had signalled to Ben and I ended up being scalped - was not impressed.' Neil McGilvray said 'Big Chief Ben gave everyone the same haircut.'

Anyway, when you returned to school, the opening remarks or soubriquet from your pals was, 'Aye Peter, ah see you've had a Ben Mackenzie!' aka a BIG Ben schoolie! (Alan Robertson)

When you're name becomes a trademark, that's when you've really made it in business!

The Sunday Post #7 We Plough The Fields And Scatter - The Harvest Festival

Was it the poorest giving to the poor?

'The Harvest Moon', Peter Hoffmann, 2008

At this time of the seasonal year in the 1960s, sometimes tying in with the Harvest Moon, the annual Harvest Festival was held at Hunters Tryst Primary School.

Local schoolchildren were expected to bring in small items of food - some fruit, vegetables or a tin.

The contributions were then laid out artistically on tables in the school hall making for a wonderfully colourful display.

There would also be a special Harvest Service held in the school hall conducted by the Reverend Jack Orr from the local parish church. It was always fun to bark out Matthias Claudius' marvellous hymn  'We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land...'

Because of its religious connotation, I don't suppose these Harvest Festivals are still held in many schools, but I suspect they're actually more grounded in pagan tradition. Certainly the word haerfest is the old English word for autumn.

I enjoyed the occasion - they always had a particularly happy, optimistic feel to them reflecting the celebration of autumn and the bringing in of a good harvest; it was an interlude before winter set in and it was another of the rather comforting milestones in the calendar year which are important to children.

The food was thereafter distributed to local pensioners, but I wonder if they were not less in need of the largesse than many local young families in Oxgangs?

The Wednesday Profile #6 Bobbie's Bookshop

Photograph, Catherine Stevenson

Bobbie's Bookshop was situated at 181 Dalry Road for over thirty five years.

The shop sold scraps and paperbacks but the reason why I visited it was that it sold the best range of DC Comics around. 

It was an Aladdin's Cave for my Green Lanterns; Green Arrows; Superman; Batman and Robin; and Justice League of America comics.

I also picked up a few Classics Illustrated too.

Occasionally, my sister Anne might be along with me as the shop also sold scraps too.

Bobbie's had a highly unusual arrangement - if you returned books or comics then you would receive credit to be spent on further comics. Theoretically you could visit Bobbie's with no money at all, and instead trade comics.Whilst you would leave the shops with fewer comics than you entered with you were still going home with different comics to read - oh the anticipation!

If you also had money with you, even better! I guess it was a book exchange.

Back in the 1990s on a return visit to Edinburgh I looked out to Dalry Road for fun to see if the shop still existed - I couldn't believe my eyes - yes it did!

I ventured in and spoke to the owner for a wee while - he was retiring soon, closing the shop in a few weeks; for old times' sake I bought some DCs with the Bobbie's Bookshop imprint on them and thanked him for the wonderful service he provided to the community for decades.

On doing a little research I discovered the shop was also a newsagent and had been allegedly black-balled for a few years by the Sunday Mail and Daily Record for failing to open on New Year's Day 1967 to sell papers - evidently the locals supported his stance and switched their allegiance to other papers.

The Wednesday Profile #7 Mr Forgan; Sandra Catterson and Mrs Davidson

For all the years I recall living in Oxgangs between 1958 to 1972 and beyond the chemist's shop at Oxgangs Broadway was run by Mr David R. Forgan. Ann-Marie Bain recalls that his displayed certificate showed that he had qualified as a chemist as early as 1939 at the start of the Second World War.

I assume he was one of the original shopkeepers.

As might be expected this was a well-run shop and always had a classy feel to it.

You somehow felt secure in his shop - it exuded a certain confidence and professionalism, something which you would look for in such an important profession.

If you needed to wait for a prescription there was a seat, however there was always such a mix of interesting goods in the shop and other customers that sometimes you didn't mind waiting.

It sold an interesting array of perfumes, salts, talcum powders, cough sweets and small penny lollipops - to help the medicine go down? The chemists' shops at that time had a certain pleasant smell about them. As Karen Reid said ‘I can still remember the smells!’

Mr Forgan was a patrician sort of a chap - with his balding head and remaining white hair he seemed old to me then, but I guess he was much younger than I am now, 62 years of age.  

He was courteous and pleasant and had a distinctive presence - in my memory he looked a little like the Colonel Blimp character portrayed by Roger Livesy; but on seeing a photograph of him recently there is only a very slight resemblance.

Many local girls enjoyed their first Saturday job there including Linda Hamilton, Ann-Marie Bain and Karen Macleod as well as holiday jobs. And judging by the positive comments it was a good place to work. Karen said ‘I loved all the old ladies coming in to choose a new lipstick!’

Several members of the Oxgangs A Pastime From Time Past Facebook group comment on what a lovely man Mr Forgan was and how helpful - if you needed some advice rather than a visit to the doctor’s he always had the time for a quick chat.

Sandra Catterson said ‘My old boss and very dear friend; I was very lucky to have the privilege of working with him for eighteen years until his retirement.’ 

Others including Susan Henderson recall how it’s changed days – it was to the chemist’ that we ventured in to, to have our camera spools developed - that prominence can be seen in the Kodak advert in the shop window. Extract from Retep Nnamffoh's diaries:  Friday, Hogmanay, 1971 '...It was a boring last day of 1971. The only wee excitement was going up to the chemist's shop to collect my photies...' 14th February, 1972: '...I also looked in to Forgan's the Chemist at Oxgangs Broadway to buy a spool for my wee Kodak Brownie camera...'

Douglas Cutt commented ‘Good God, another memory! I bought a 2/6d plastic Diana camera from my paper round money and took some photos of my Jackie Stewart Formula 1 car model that I had just put together and painted. I took the photographs on the street. He (Mr Forgan) was asking how I had managed to get such good photos... he thought it was the real car!’

Because we lived closer to The Store, where as part of the overall building, there was an additional two separate shops, one of which was a paint and decorator's shop, (which couldn't possibly survive today) and t'other a chemist (where the chip shop is today) we tended to share our custom between the two chemists shops. The chemist here was actually part of St Cuthbert's Co-operative Association Ltd.

It had the same feel as Forgan’s Chemist shop, but was smaller, less inviting and there was less freedom to roam and as a customer you were kept at a distance.

Sandra Catterson and Dorothy Davidson

There was a link between the two shops because Martin Davidson’s mother (from further down Oxgangs Avenue) worked there; she was a glamorous lady with blonde hair - she was a very friendly woman, but someone who could also be sensitive combined with great customer care - an asset to the business. Although I haven't thought of Mrs Davidson in over four decades it's strange the impact and impression that people can make on you even as children and still remain with you after all these years. It was rather lovely to see a photograph of her with her colleague, Sandra Catterson, taking a short break on a sunny day outside Forgan's the Chemist's shop - I hadn't realised that she had worked there too - perhaps after The Store chemist closed down?