First-hand memories

This year was the sixtieth anniversary of ringing the extent of all the possible changes on eight bells at Loughborough Bell Foundry on 27th and into 28th July 1963. Sixty years is a long time to retain memories of this event and of the 18 hours it took to ring. The fiftieth anniversary was well covered in The Ringing World of 16th August 2013. But this year the anniversary will not be marked by the band meeting, as we have done on four previous occasions, because sadly we have lost three of the team – John Jelley, John Robinson and most recently Bob Smith, the organiser and conductor.

How did this achievement come about and what influenced its success on that day? It’s quite a long story but I will relate how I came to be a member and what my memories are of the ringing. When I started as a young ringer at Fairfield in one of the remoter parts of Derbyshire, I was not aware of what went on beyond the tower walls. The odd copy of the Ringing World I flicked through was written in a foreign language and completely meaningless to a learner at that time. An older student in the tower, about to go off to university, taught me and explained what ringing was about. It was through him – Bill Smith, a nephew of John Fidler of Taylors – that I first heard of the exploits of the ‘Cheshire Men’ and their ringing of the record peals of 21,600 Bristol Surprise Major and 15,480 Cambridge Surprise Royal. In 1953 Bill was in my first peal at Wormhill (Kent TB Minor) which was the first on these very light bells. I was later told that I had created a record by ringing the lightest church bell by a first pealer. Thus within a short period, long peals and records formed part of my ringing awareness.

A year later I had rung peals with four of the Cheshire Men and learnt something of the serious and amusing sides of long peals as well as talk about “what next?” Being short for a peal at Burbage in 1956 brought me into contact with three of Jack Pryor’s young band at Marple whose first peal this turned out to be – Bernard Groves, Alan McFall and Bob Smith. This meeting changed the course of my life and it was not long before we were ringing Spliced TB Minor, up to the maximum (at that time) of 73 methods, first rung at Fairfield in 1937 by the Cheshire Men. Our first venture into long peal ringing was 10,000 Double Norwich CB Major at Fairfield in 1957, the youngest band to ring a long length. We were confident of ringing longer and attempted 20,000 the following year. This failed more through nerves than errors because a retired ex-St Paul’s Cathedral ringer – Frank Smallwood – had told me he would be outside listening and judging the quality; he was sceptical that such a young band could achieve a long length. But this event sowed the seeds of thought about really long peals and the 40,320 was seen as one objective amongst others. The Cheshire Men, on the other hand, had nothing but encouragement for us and we went past their Royal record at Worsley on a bitterly cold day in December 1961 with some of them awaiting us outside at the finish.

The years 1959-62 had seen a number of attempts for the 40,320, most at Loughborough Bell-Foundry and in 1961 Bob Smith’s team achieved 32,704. I was unavailable for this peal but it made me realise that the extent was attainable. Two years earlier I had organised an attempt for Double Norwich and though we rang some 12,000, I recognised that the method was too demanding given the length of time required. Bob’s 1962 attempt got us to nearly 19,000 before one of the band had to stop; this peal took well over nine hours, indicating that 40,320 would take much more than 19 hours. Derek Ogden pointed out that if we could ring a normal peal in 2.15 rather than 2.20 it would take an hour off at the end of the day. Good advice, which we heeded in 1963.

And so to the successful attempt. By 1963 I was well apprised of what it took to attempt what in those years were really long peals, and started to train my mind to accommodate such long spaces of time. Clearly, one couldn’t afford to lose concentration and yet the method and the bells were hardly challenging. I opted for ringing the treble, which may have seemed an easy option, but any errors could have proved disastrous at the speed we rang.

It would be so simple just to relieve the repetitive 2,520 plain leads with a dodge or two, which did happen in 1-2 though only once I recall. The physical side of ringing too had been well tested over the previous six months during which John Eisel and I had rung three record peals over 10,000 – of Rutland, Superlative and Pudsey.

Of the team, only three of the 32,000 band rang again, so there were some newcomers to the reality of ringing the clock round and beyond. Only Ricky Shallcross had never experienced a long length, on what was to be for him a most memorable occasion. Bob had asked me, and the others when appropriate, to oversee the calling of Ken Lewis’s brilliant composition, the coursing order helping to indicate when calls were to be made. I think three of us were mindful of this crucial request, more so because some earlier attempts by other teams had failed through mis-calls, most notably that by Frank Lufkin after almost 33,000 changes and 16 hours!

Trying to divert one’s mind away from time and clock-watching was not easy initially but was helped by ticking off sections of the composition and using these as time markers. Smiles and nods from the umpires welcomed milestones too. Halfway was a non-event. There had been very few errors although the 25-30,000 period seemed endless and probably witnessed the most. Turning the corner into the 30,000s was a major stimulus and I thought these last four hours contained the best ringing of the day. Soon we were past the two 32,000 attempts and rolling onwards. But drama was to come at 37,000 when one of us said he had to stop because of back pains. Ringing light bells seemed a good choice for the attempt but there is no weight to relieve stress on back and legs. Bob didn’t respond to this request directly but must have known others were suffering too. The odd remark that there was only a part, 20 courses or 3,000 changes to go helped put the situation into context. We were just focussed on the end which when it came was an anti- climax. No hugs, high-fives, clenched fists or dashes for food or drink. The supporting team’s congratulations were welcomed of course, their contribution and encouragement only fully appreciated long after we had dispersed.

Over time, the memories of this ‘Everest’, as it was termed, have mellowed and I have thought of the first time the 40,320 was rung – in 1761 at Leeds in Kent. Although 14 men were involved, it was a most remarkable achievement and would be today if repeated. On a heavy old-style eight, taking 27 hours with James Barham presumably conducting throughout and organising the changeovers, it perhaps has never had the recognition it deserves. Our peal benefited from a super modern ring of bells under comfortable conditions and no additional nine hours to surpass Leeds. I am so glad we didn’t ring the extra 80 changes at the end.

BRIAN J WOODRUFFE

Whilst I was lucky to be involved in the peal, it should be noted that Derek Ogden, who was probably one of the forefront ringers of the Exercise in the 1960s and who had been in previous attempts, had had to stand down. A short time before 27 July I’d been in a peal in Manchester in which Derek was ringing. As we left the tower he told me that he wasn’t feeling too well and had a hospital appointment in late July. Would I be prepared to stand in his place in the attempt if Bob agreed? Of course I said I would. On 26 July, Derek gave Neil and myself a lift to Loughborough for our overnight stay. He then acted as Umpire for the peal and in the early hours of Sunday 28 July drove us back to Ashton-under-Lyne and then on to his home in Sale, Manchester. He must have been absolutely shattered. Sadly, only a short time later, after an operation for cancer, he died at the age of 30 years. He was a wonderful ringer but above all a top class person.

This year four of the band met by chance at Brian Harris’s 90th birthday party in Chester (RW p.298). Brian, Neil, John Eisel and I rang handbells together. We swopped stories and planned to try and get a band together with Brian Woodruffe plus one more to ring a peal of Minor in late July to mark the 60th anniversary of the Extent. Sadly, much water has flown under the bridge since then and the meet has not been possible.

RICK SHALLCROSS

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In preparation for the attempt I had taken the Friday off work and gone to Headingley, where I saw the West Indies’ bowlers Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith rather take England apart in the Test Match. It was quite hot that day at the cricket, as it was on the day of the peal, so, in retrospect, I’m not sure that spending the Friday getting roasted was quite the wisest thing I did that weekend!!

I recall Brian Woodruffe on the treble commenting just as we reached 20,160 changes: “Only another twelve hundred and sixty times out and back now, Bob!”

John Jelley and I (on the 2nd and 3rd) had a south-facing window right behind us and it got quite warm during the afternoon, so much so that John asked the umpires for a glass of water, whereupon he drank half of it and poured the rest over his head!

The umpires that day shouldn’t be forgotten. I believe Bob Smith formally thanked them at the time, and again in The Ringing World, but Peter Staniforth, John Acres, Derek Ogden and John Barlow offered us encouragement throughout a very long day and really did look after us way beyond the call of duty. As Rick has mentioned, Derek Ogden’s reason for his late decision to stand out of the peal turned out to be rather more serious than anyone had suspected at the time, and we were all profoundly shocked to hear only a few weeks later (on 18th September 1963) that he had died of an inoperable cancer. He was just 30 years of age, a truly great ringer and a wonderful person to have known. Sadly, Peter Staniforth and John Acres have also passed away since and I have lost touch with John Barlow.

Paul Taylor stayed with us as long as he could, to make sure all was well, but he had to leave us in the afternoon – I believe he was guest speaker at a dinner in Bristol that evening – but the umpires told us afterwards that he’d phoned the foundry several times during the evening to make sure we were still going – as he told them, his nightmare was a broken rope.

We remember fondly our late colleagues in the band: John Robinson, John Jelley and Bob Smith – never to be forgotten.

NEIL BENNETT

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It was almost by chance that I was asked to ring. I went up to King’s College, London, in the autumn of 1961, to discover that Brian Woodruffe was already there, but a year ahead. I took advantage of the peals that Brian organised, including a long peal of 10,944 Rutland Surprise Major at Quex Park on 9th December 1962. When Bob Smith was organising another attempt for the Extent, Brian suggested to him that I would be worth asking. As a preliminary I was asked to ring in a peal of 11,552 Superlative Surprise Major which was rung at St Peter’s, Ashton-under-Lyne on Easter Monday 1963. I must have passed the test as I was subsequently asked to take part in the attempt in July 1963. The Ashton peal included four of the band that subsequently took part, and it was the first occasion I met Bob Smith and John Robinson.

In July 1963 Brian organised a peal tour in Derbyshire, and the first peal was of 10,560 Pudsey Surprise Major at the Bell Foundry on 6th July, rung at a relatively sedate 2h 36 min for an ordinary length, rather slower than the much faster pace later in the month.

I had not previously met Brian Harris, John Jelley, Neil Bennett and Rick Shallcross, and the first time that I rang with them was in the trial rounds before the successful attempt. Our first peal together was thus the Extent. Although we had not rung together as a band previously, the ringing was excellent from the start, and continued to be so, helped, of course, by the simple method.

Brian has written a very good account of the Extent. For myself, in 1987 I did put some notes together on ringing long lengths, including a short note on the Extent, which I give below:

‘At that period a number of bands were in competition to achieve this, and their various doings have been chronicled in these pages. I was fortunate that the first time I was in an attempt it was successful. At the end of the peal I was absolutely whacked but despite this I slept badly at the hotel: the bells in my ears just would not stop ringing.

I travelled most of the way home to Kingswinford by train — I expect that you would have a job to do that on a Sunday nowadays — and being eager to tell someone of our achievement went to ring for Evensong at St Mary’s, Kingswinford. During a break in the ringing I said casually “We rang the 40,000 yesterday,” to which Denis Layton replied in his usual dry, deadpan style “What happened to the other 320?” Retire JCE deflated!’

We all continued to ring peals, although some rather more than others. I have the dubious distinction of being the only one who has not rung a thousand peals! Such peals that I was ringing tailed off in the early 1990s, partly due to taking over the Central Council Library, allowing me to indulge my historical and bibliographic interests. Finally, I can’t help pointing out that although living further south, I am a native of the North-East, where three of my grandparents came from long-established families: one line can be traced back to Corbridge in the late seventeenth century, but unfortunately I can’t ring in this ancestral place!

JOHN EISEL

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Two memories come to mind. First, at the conclusion of the peal we were each provided with a quart bottle of beer. John Robinson unscrewed the stopper from his and, throwing his head right back, poured the whole contents down his throat without a pause!

Secondly, I had no car and had given no thought as to how I was to return to my family (who were staying at my parents’ home in Chester) early on a Sunday morning. Derek Ogden, one of the umpires, kindly gave me a lift to Stockport and from there, in the middle of the night, I began to hitch-hike to Chester. Amazingly, I managed to get some lifts and ended up at a cross roads about fifteen miles from Chester. There I sat on a convenient bench and watched the sun rise. About six o’clock a white Hillman Husky van appeared and its driver gave me a lift into Chester, about 200 yards from my parents’ home, where I received a hero’s welcome!

‘My bench’ remained at the spot until about four years ago.

BRIAN HARRIS

This article has been kindly reproduced from The Ringing World. If you have found it interesting, you may wish to subscribe to receive your own weekly copy of the paper.

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