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Clifton Hall - A Personal Remeniscence


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Good evening to all — just sat here with some soul CD on (sorry OVO folk!) and a few cans of ale, reminiscing about my youth, and thought I would share with anyone who has 5-10 mins to spare to read — apologies for the length

The time — 1981 — I had just left school in my home town of Hull and full of a yearning for freedom, adventure and new experiences — wanted to throw off the yoke of my first job (which had already bored the shite out of me) and spread my wings.

First admission — I NEVER WENT TO WIGAN CASINO......phew, that was cathartic — I know thousands did visit that magical place, but also get the feeling many who didn’t attend like to lay claim to being a regular — at the age I was when it was at its zenith, my parents wouldn’t have stood for that, although some of my school age peers used to go on the coaches that left Hull, and I am sure if you were a young un who lived closer you may have frequented the place — I know I wish I had, but I didn’t so that’s that.

I used to hear all the records the elder Hull folk brought back at house parties, and watch them dance, fascinated — a far cry from the stuff that passed for Northern at the youth club.

A mate of mine, who had been to the Casino, told me about a place in Rotherham, and did I fancy hitching it there with him — I agreed, so on that eponymous Friday night in 1981 I set off, clad in a pair of Jumbo cords, a t-shirt under a Slazenger jumper, and that most functional of dance footwear — NOT — Kios (Stan Smith copy but in Burgundy)

I remember our first lift, a boring (although we WERE grateful) old fella who regaled us with complaints about the noise levels of music nowadays — he was going as far as Thorne near Doncaster and dropped us off near a bridge over the road — before that night we didn’t know Thorne existed, but found a chippy and then a bus that went to Donny — then got a connecting one to Rotherham.

One thing that absolutely flipped us was that in S.Yorks, you could go miles on a bus for 2p (public transport must have been subsidised) — amazing but a right Brucie Bonus when you were on YOP wages (I use the term loosely) of ~£27 a week.

 

We arrived at Clifton Hall after walking up the hill/slope, paid in and, although I didn’t know it at the time, I experienced a musical epiphany — a dimly lit hall with chairs and tables around the dancing area and NO MIRROR BALLS!

I recall going for a lag and being amazed at all these older chaps stripping, washing and changing their tops after a spray of Brut — I wouldn’t have even been noticed by these old hands - jeez, anyone with a tache was a 'mister' at that age, but I was keenly clocking fashions etc, vests, flares, shoes, so different to what I was wearing — I can still vividly recall one lad with the legend ‘Yorkshire Born, Yorkshire Bred, Strong in the Arm and Good in Bed’ in a scroll down his upper arm — class wording I thought and made me inwardly chuckle at the time.

And so began a love affair with the venue, and the music, that still burns strong over 3 decades later (as if anyone on this forum needs that pointing out — talk about ‘preaching to the converted!’)

 

Unsullied by any musical prejudices — I knew NOTHING — I would happily try and move on the floor to anything that caught my ear — a mix as eclectic as;

Leon Bryant — Mighty Body (Hotsy Totsy)

Daybreak — I need Love

Billy Nicholls — Diamond Rings

TR5 — Cant wait much longer

Moses Dillard — Pretty as a picture

Pat Lewis — No-one to love

 

I could watch good dancers all night — kept ourselves to ourselves mostly, but one lass I do remember was  a short haired girl called Diane from Chesterfield — she had a unique dancing style that earned her the sobriquet ‘the Chesterfield Chicken’ not in a nasty way may I hasten to add, she was an attractive lass and an ‘older woman’ to us, although probably only in her early-mid 20’s at the time.

I was also introduced to gear at that age — one of the faces from Hull who attended handed me a handful of pills one night and told me to go and take them, they’d keep me ‘up’ all night — being naturally cautious I took one and pocketed the rest, although the official line was that I’d ‘done em all’ for bravado — that approach allowed me to gauge my tolerance and what level of ‘assistance’ I needed without blindly being too off my tits to appreciate the music.

We met good young lads from Sheffield & Boro at these nighters, like us they were ‘proto-casuals’ with an interest in terrace culture and we stood out with our fledgling wedge hairstyles and mode of dress.

Some of the escapades we had hitching were, looking back on them, quite harum scarum — ranging from a car load of big miner types pulling up on the M18 and shouting ‘GET IN THIS CAR NOW!’ — me and my mate thought we were being kidnapped and imagined all sorts done to us — they were good as gold and just wanted to prevent us getting nicked for thumbing it on the motorway — to the time an artic lorry driver let us in the back with his cargo — a load of massive wooden packing crates with metal corners, that weren’t secured and flew across the container toward us every time we turned a corner — was like a game of human pinball in there and 2 very relieved young lads when he let us out.

I have never collected records, couldn’t tell you the catalogue numbers of rare releases, would never be in the ‘top dancer’ category, but I still listen to a couple of hours rare soul EVERY day, and would say that my love for this music of ours is the equal of anyone — apart from my family I have never found anything that fills my life with so much happiness and fulfilment — on a dance floor, eyes closed in rhapsody and achieving something akin to ‘communion’ with the music like a Sufi mystic — I can only pay homage to the fates that led me to the altar of my youthful worship — CLIFTON HALL — are the times different? — inevitably — would I like any of my sons hitching across the North in search of youthful high-jinks — well yeah, but I’d worry sick........oh, and if I could find the couple who were heading to Batley market one Saturday morning and found two drenched and shivering urchins under a motorway bridge and decided they could just as well go to Withernsea market instead (just to give us a lift home) — I would shake your hand with gratitude undiminished by the years — what a lovely act of selflessness.

Thank you to anyone who has persevered — Clifton Hall memories may have been done to death on here before — if so apologies for my variation on a theme

Way to go matey!

 

Brilliant all niter. There are some good old threads on here about Clifton Hall - check em out.

 

 

Peter

 

:thumbsup:

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Thank you both for taking the time to read and respond - one thing i meant to include was something that has baffled me across the years - the mob who used to appear half way thru the niter - blowing whistles - were they............
 

The Preston street dancers - ie; some 'street dancers' from Preston?

OR
The Preston St dancers - some dancers from Preston St in some un-named town/city?

 

Can you believe that has from time to time occupied my mind over the last decades - i need to get out more! ;~)

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I remember that tattoo vividly... On a guy at Alfreton leisure centre, waiting to be served at the bar, whilst we all waited for Gene Chandler to do his stuff on stage.

Clifton hall, i only went a handful of times, all by scooter, dads car, bus or train, but its all very vague nowadays. Thanks for the post

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Thank you both for taking the time to read and respond - one thing i meant to include was something that has baffled me across the years - the mob who used to appear half way thru the niter - blowing whistles - were they............

 

The Preston street dancers - ie; some 'street dancers' from Preston?

OR

The Preston St dancers - some dancers from Preston St in some un-named town/city?

 

Can you believe that has from time to time occupied my mind over the last decades - i need to get out more! ;~)

The Preston Street Dancers!

 

:thumbup:

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I'm pretty sure they were from Preston Richard.

 

 

they were from preston, an old friend of mine used to go out with one , she was from the  sheffield area, my mistake..phil

 

Sorry chaps, there you are being all helpful and everything - and my post was a feeble attempt at humour! Though it turned out, if I'm honest, I was thinking about the Cybermen when I typed from the hip! doh!

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Good evening to all — just sat here with some soul CD on (sorry OVO folk!) and a few cans of ale, reminiscing about my youth, and thought I would share with anyone who has 5-10 mins to spare to read — apologies for the length

The time — 1981 — I had just left school in my home town of Hull and full of a yearning for freedom, adventure and new experiences — wanted to throw off the yoke of my first job (which had already bored the shite out of me) and spread my wings.

First admission — I NEVER WENT TO WIGAN CASINO......phew, that was cathartic — I know thousands did visit that magical place, but also get the feeling many who didn’t attend like to lay claim to being a regular — at the age I was when it was at its zenith, my parents wouldn’t have stood for that, although some of my school age peers used to go on the coaches that left Hull, and I am sure if you were a young un who lived closer you may have frequented the place — I know I wish I had, but I didn’t so that’s that.

I used to hear all the records the elder Hull folk brought back at house parties, and watch them dance, fascinated — a far cry from the stuff that passed for Northern at the youth club.

A mate of mine, who had been to the Casino, told me about a place in Rotherham, and did I fancy hitching it there with him — I agreed, so on that eponymous Friday night in 1981 I set off, clad in a pair of Jumbo cords, a t-shirt under a Slazenger jumper, and that most functional of dance footwear — NOT — Kios (Stan Smith copy but in Burgundy)

I remember our first lift, a boring (although we WERE grateful) old fella who regaled us with complaints about the noise levels of music nowadays — he was going as far as Thorne near Doncaster and dropped us off near a bridge over the road — before that night we didn’t know Thorne existed, but found a chippy and then a bus that went to Donny — then got a connecting one to Rotherham.

One thing that absolutely flipped us was that in S.Yorks, you could go miles on a bus for 2p (public transport must have been subsidised) — amazing but a right Brucie Bonus when you were on YOP wages (I use the term loosely) of ~£27 a week.

 

We arrived at Clifton Hall after walking up the hill/slope, paid in and, although I didn’t know it at the time, I experienced a musical epiphany — a dimly lit hall with chairs and tables around the dancing area and NO MIRROR BALLS!

I recall going for a lag and being amazed at all these older chaps stripping, washing and changing their tops after a spray of Brut — I wouldn’t have even been noticed by these old hands - jeez, anyone with a tache was a 'mister' at that age, but I was keenly clocking fashions etc, vests, flares, shoes, so different to what I was wearing — I can still vividly recall one lad with the legend ‘Yorkshire Born, Yorkshire Bred, Strong in the Arm and Good in Bed’ in a scroll down his upper arm — class wording I thought and made me inwardly chuckle at the time.

And so began a love affair with the venue, and the music, that still burns strong over 3 decades later (as if anyone on this forum needs that pointing out — talk about ‘preaching to the converted!’)

 

Unsullied by any musical prejudices — I knew NOTHING — I would happily try and move on the floor to anything that caught my ear — a mix as eclectic as;

Leon Bryant — Mighty Body (Hotsy Totsy)

Daybreak — I need Love

Billy Nicholls — Diamond Rings

TR5 — Cant wait much longer

Moses Dillard — Pretty as a picture

Pat Lewis — No-one to love

 

I could watch good dancers all night — kept ourselves to ourselves mostly, but one lass I do remember was  a short haired girl called Diane from Chesterfield — she had a unique dancing style that earned her the sobriquet ‘the Chesterfield Chicken’ not in a nasty way may I hasten to add, she was an attractive lass and an ‘older woman’ to us, although probably only in her early-mid 20’s at the time.

I was also introduced to gear at that age — one of the faces from Hull who attended handed me a handful of pills one night and told me to go and take them, they’d keep me ‘up’ all night — being naturally cautious I took one and pocketed the rest, although the official line was that I’d ‘done em all’ for bravado — that approach allowed me to gauge my tolerance and what level of ‘assistance’ I needed without blindly being too off my tits to appreciate the music.

We met good young lads from Sheffield & Boro at these nighters, like us they were ‘proto-casuals’ with an interest in terrace culture and we stood out with our fledgling wedge hairstyles and mode of dress.

Some of the escapades we had hitching were, looking back on them, quite harum scarum — ranging from a car load of big miner types pulling up on the M18 and shouting ‘GET IN THIS CAR NOW!’ — me and my mate thought we were being kidnapped and imagined all sorts done to us — they were good as gold and just wanted to prevent us getting nicked for thumbing it on the motorway — to the time an artic lorry driver let us in the back with his cargo — a load of massive wooden packing crates with metal corners, that weren’t secured and flew across the container toward us every time we turned a corner — was like a game of human pinball in there and 2 very relieved young lads when he let us out.

I have never collected records, couldn’t tell you the catalogue numbers of rare releases, would never be in the ‘top dancer’ category, but I still listen to a couple of hours rare soul EVERY day, and would say that my love for this music of ours is the equal of anyone — apart from my family I have never found anything that fills my life with so much happiness and fulfilment — on a dance floor, eyes closed in rhapsody and achieving something akin to ‘communion’ with the music like a Sufi mystic — I can only pay homage to the fates that led me to the altar of my youthful worship — CLIFTON HALL — are the times different? — inevitably — would I like any of my sons hitching across the North in search of youthful high-jinks — well yeah, but I’d worry sick........oh, and if I could find the couple who were heading to Batley market one Saturday morning and found two drenched and shivering urchins under a motorway bridge and decided they could just as well go to Withernsea market instead (just to give us a lift home) — I would shake your hand with gratitude undiminished by the years — what a lovely act of selflessness.

Thank you to anyone who has persevered — Clifton Hall memories may have been done to death on here before — if so apologies for my variation on a theme

Good evening to all — just sat here with some soul CD on (sorry OVO folk!) and a few cans of ale, reminiscing about my youth, and thought I would share with anyone who has 5-10 mins to spare to read — apologies for the length

The time — 1981 — I had just left school in my home town of Hull and full of a yearning for freedom, adventure and new experiences — wanted to throw off the yoke of my first job (which had already bored the shite out of me) and spread my wings.

First admission — I NEVER WENT TO WIGAN CASINO......phew, that was cathartic — I know thousands did visit that magical place, but also get the feeling many who didn’t attend like to lay claim to being a regular — at the age I was when it was at its zenith, my parents wouldn’t have stood for that, although some of my school age peers used to go on the coaches that left Hull, and I am sure if you were a young un who lived closer you may have frequented the place — I know I wish I had, but I didn’t so that’s that.

I used to hear all the records the elder Hull folk brought back at house parties, and watch them dance, fascinated — a far cry from the stuff that passed for Northern at the youth club.

A mate of mine, who had been to the Casino, told me about a place in Rotherham, and did I fancy hitching it there with him — I agreed, so on that eponymous Friday night in 1981 I set off, clad in a pair of Jumbo cords, a t-shirt under a Slazenger jumper, and that most functional of dance footwear — NOT — Kios (Stan Smith copy but in Burgundy)

I remember our first lift, a boring (although we WERE grateful) old fella who regaled us with complaints about the noise levels of music nowadays — he was going as far as Thorne near Doncaster and dropped us off near a bridge over the road — before that night we didn’t know Thorne existed, but found a chippy and then a bus that went to Donny — then got a connecting one to Rotherham.

One thing that absolutely flipped us was that in S.Yorks, you could go miles on a bus for 2p (public transport must have been subsidised) — amazing but a right Brucie Bonus when you were on YOP wages (I use the term loosely) of ~£27 a week.

 

We arrived at Clifton Hall after walking up the hill/slope, paid in and, although I didn’t know it at the time, I experienced a musical epiphany — a dimly lit hall with chairs and tables around the dancing area and NO MIRROR BALLS!

I recall going for a lag and being amazed at all these older chaps stripping, washing and changing their tops after a spray of Brut — I wouldn’t have even been noticed by these old hands - jeez, anyone with a tache was a 'mister' at that age, but I was keenly clocking fashions etc, vests, flares, shoes, so different to what I was wearing — I can still vividly recall one lad with the legend ‘Yorkshire Born, Yorkshire Bred, Strong in the Arm and Good in Bed’ in a scroll down his upper arm — class wording I thought and made me inwardly chuckle at the time.

And so began a love affair with the venue, and the music, that still burns strong over 3 decades later (as if anyone on this forum needs that pointing out — talk about ‘preaching to the converted!’)

 

Unsullied by any musical prejudices — I knew NOTHING — I would happily try and move on the floor to anything that caught my ear — a mix as eclectic as;

Leon Bryant — Mighty Body (Hotsy Totsy)

Daybreak — I need Love

Billy Nicholls — Diamond Rings

TR5 — Cant wait much longer

Moses Dillard — Pretty as a picture

Pat Lewis — No-one to love

 

I could watch good dancers all night — kept ourselves to ourselves mostly, but one lass I do remember was  a short haired girl called Diane from Chesterfield — she had a unique dancing style that earned her the sobriquet ‘the Chesterfield Chicken’ not in a nasty way may I hasten to add, she was an attractive lass and an ‘older woman’ to us, although probably only in her early-mid 20’s at the time.

I was also introduced to gear at that age — one of the faces from Hull who attended handed me a handful of pills one night and told me to go and take them, they’d keep me ‘up’ all night — being naturally cautious I took one and pocketed the rest, although the official line was that I’d ‘done em all’ for bravado — that approach allowed me to gauge my tolerance and what level of ‘assistance’ I needed without blindly being too off my tits to appreciate the music.

We met good young lads from Sheffield & Boro at these nighters, like us they were ‘proto-casuals’ with an interest in terrace culture and we stood out with our fledgling wedge hairstyles and mode of dress.

Some of the escapades we had hitching were, looking back on them, quite harum scarum — ranging from a car load of big miner types pulling up on the M18 and shouting ‘GET IN THIS CAR NOW!’ — me and my mate thought we were being kidnapped and imagined all sorts done to us — they were good as gold and just wanted to prevent us getting nicked for thumbing it on the motorway — to the time an artic lorry driver let us in the back with his cargo — a load of massive wooden packing crates with metal corners, that weren’t secured and flew across the container toward us every time we turned a corner — was like a game of human pinball in there and 2 very relieved young lads when he let us out.

I have never collected records, couldn’t tell you the catalogue numbers of rare releases, would never be in the ‘top dancer’ category, but I still listen to a couple of hours rare soul EVERY day, and would say that my love for this music of ours is the equal of anyone — apart from my family I have never found anything that fills my life with so much happiness and fulfilment — on a dance floor, eyes closed in rhapsody and achieving something akin to ‘communion’ with the music like a Sufi mystic — I can only pay homage to the fates that led me to the altar of my youthful worship — CLIFTON HALL — are the times different? — inevitably — would I like any of my sons hitching across the North in search of youthful high-jinks — well yeah, but I’d worry sick........oh, and if I could find the couple who were heading to Batley market one Saturday morning and found two drenched and shivering urchins under a motorway bridge and decided they could just as well go to Withernsea market instead (just to give us a lift home) — I would shake your hand with gratitude undiminished by the years — what a lovely act of selflessness.

Thank you to anyone who has persevered — Clifton Hall memories may have been done to death on here before — if so apologies for my variation on a theme

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The girl was Diane Reynolds. She still attends local soul nites and still lives in Chesterfield. You mentioned Sheffield and Boro, my best mate at that time was Andy Galloway from Sheffield. Also close mates from Boro were Bozy and Clarky. From Hull we had a mate called Mike, a small black lad. He introduced us to Paz, Phil Hassan and Dave Hulley, 3 wizz dealers from Hull and to this day, its the best we have ever had.My name is Knocker from Chesterfield so I bet we knew each other back then

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Three memories for me:

Preston Street Dancers (from Preston)

Neil Page's flashing lights on his record box

Randy nearly getting us in a fight with a bunch of Rotherham locals in a pub....

 

Happy days,.

Probably in the Charters Arms Steve

 

Neil Pages flashing record box used to make me extremely paranoid! :wicked:

 

As did most thinmgs back then!

 

P

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The girl was Diane Reynolds. She still attends local soul nites and still lives in Chesterfield. You mentioned Sheffield and Boro, my best mate at that time was Andy Galloway from Sheffield. Also close mates from Boro were Bozy and Clarky. From Hull we had a mate called Mike, a small black lad. He introduced us to Paz, Phil Hassan and Dave Hulley, 3 wizz dealers from Hull and to this day, its the best we have ever had.My name is Knocker from Chesterfield so I bet we knew each other back then

Knew Boasey & Clarky well mate, Boasey passed away sadly about 18mth-2 yr back - know who you'll mean by Mike (the black chap) - also know 2 of the 3 gents you mentioned - still see Paz - although i couldn't comment on their propensity for....ahem..transgressing any laws

Remember Andy Galloway too, tall brown haired lad with a tache (probably described half of S.Yorks at the time ;~)  )

Andy G was 'seeing' a lass called Diane Gallagher from Hull, came thru with a couple of Sheff mates to a house party in Hessle - as per in those days, alcohol & testosterone mixed badly and made the accent you spoke with and your postcode a far bigger deal than it should EVER be, all went a bit 'Bertie' and ended in tears.............

Shame, as i got on with all of em - and yes, you may well have been in company back in the day mate - cheers for the post

Edited by hullsoulie
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