Ray King column: more on Hauxley
The two villages of High and Low Hauxley lie half a mile apart. As far as I know nothing of any particular significance appears to have gone on in High Hauxley. However, back in the 1930s-40s a formidable lady, Mrs. Creswell, lived in the big house and was a leading character in the area who seemed to instigate any event that took place.
Another lady who comes to mind was Pamela Roberts. My father, who worked at Hauxley colliery as a check weigh man, met Pamela while she was on her way to catch the United bus, at what was known as Bolton Corner. I believe she went to Newcastle every day to be coached in the hope of becoming an actress. This was not surprising according to my father, as he said she was a beautiful young lady with a dazzling smile. He was completely captivated by her.
However, when war broke out in 1939, Pamela vanished from the scene and we never found out what happened to her. Perhaps, there may be someone around who remembers her.
Low Hauxley, situated by the sea, had much more to offer in the way of entertainment. Back in the 1950s it even had its own nightclub and visitors from all round the area would descend upon Hauxley, especially on Saturday nights.
I was not in the area at that time but Mrs. Taylor, widow of the late Oliver Taylor, (they owned the club), told me about some of the lurid events that took place there when I treated her back pain some years ago. For some reason, which she did not elaborate on, the club was forced to close down. Who would have thought that such “goings on” would have occurred in Hauxley.
Way back in the 1930s, Hauxley managed to produce the finest football team in North Northumberland. I was only seven years old when Hauxley were drawn to play near neighbour Radcliffe in a local cup-tie. The match was played at Hauxley and it is still ingrained in my memory. I distinctly remember hordes of spectators walking, running and cycling across the fields to get a good view of the match. Those on bikes carelessly threw them into the hedgerows knowing that no one would pinch them.
An interesting statistic was that the Hauxley team only had one player from the actual village, the rest were from far and wide. The name of that player was Farrow Douglas. He was a big strapping centre forward and he was a prolific goal scorer. At the time he was being watched by several big league clubs. My brother Frank, who was just fourteen, was in goal for Radcliffe and I can still picture him diving at the feet of the Hauxley players, his ginger hair so clearly visible in the throng hustling around the goalmouth. He was fearless and I thought then: ‘Who would ever want to be a goal keeper?’
Result: Hauxley 1 – 0 Radcliffe.
On a sad note Farrow was blown up by a German mine which had washed up on the Hauxley beach when he was out walking. Life can be so cruel and begs the question ‘Why do some die so young?’
Ray’s book ‘To the End of the Road’ is available from Pride of Northumbria, Queen Street. £6.99