The Voice of Soccer - 1946 book

[Dick Swiveller]

After the More Than 90 Minutes thread, I ended up buying a book I came across call The Voice of Soccer by Alec Whitcher. The author was a director and chairman and was responsible for building the West Stand. He wrote 3 books of which this was the third and donated the profits to the club. This book is apparently the only one with reference to the Albion so I thought some of you might enjoy a few passages.

First up is a trolling Portsmouth fan (well, reader from Portsmouth) - 1946 style. The end of the book has a mailbag section where the author responds to mail from his previous books - almost like an early blog with comments.

A profound and sincere thank you for writing the two splendid books of which I am the proud owner. Thank you! for the patience such a task called for, and again thank you! for the precious memories various chapters recalled, making me see again names that were nearly forgotten. I am proud of being accused of being football crazy, but aren't all thrue hundred per cent. supporters classed the same?

I originally hailed from Norwich and supported the 'Canaries.' My soccer following of Clubs is rather of the 'rolling stone' variety, and is probably unique. Southend United, Bournemouth, one season each; Aldreshot, two seasons; Portsmouth the past three seasons. Re Brighton, was it not a Norwich player, Reid, who rendered yeoman service to your Club throughout the war period? Wasn't it Reid who won the game for Brighton against Portsmouth at Fratton Park? I remember Jack Doran, Brighton's Irish international centre-forward, the late Sam Jennings, mentioned in your book 'Soccer Calling,' who wore the yellow and green of Norwich in his early days, Roger Wilkinson and Bib Dennison, both of whom came from Norwich to Brighton, and were stars of the team.

All of us just love to have a little friendly 'dig' at our opponents which, I am sure, given and accepted in the sporting spirit, does no harm, so let me have my laugh over dear old Brighton (which, by the way, was not mentioned in either of your books!) - a Brains Trust question :- 'What was the highest score in any game in war-time football, and the teams taking part? The answer is :- Norwich City v Brighton, played at Carron (sic) Road, Norwich, Christmas morning 1940-41, and the score was 19-0. I shouldn't crow, because Norwich had five Bolton Wanderers in their team, who were stationed there in a searchlight unit.

#twats #plastics #bantz

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Alec wasn't going to stand for that.

I must interject on this point. I cannot wait till the end of his letter. Agreed, at Christmas 1940, the Brighton Club suffered the greatest debacle in its history. I will not quarrel about an odd goal, but I believe we lost 18-0. What was the reason, apart from the Bolton players in the Norwich side? Well, the Albion left for the match with but four players, only one of them being a "regular" Joe Wilson, and the other three, juniors. The remainder of the eleven was made up of Norwich juniors. But what was the moral behind that defeat? Let it be said, to the credit of the Brighton Club, that they kept the faith with their fixture. It would be well of other Clubs made note; we have not been treated similarly always, for even the Arsenal failed us on one occasion. I hope my Norwich friend witnessed our Cup tie at Norwich in January, 1946, when we were the victors by 2 goals to 1, and again at Brighton when we won 4-1

#takethatpompeytwat #dontmesswithalec

 

[crasher]

The author was a director and chairman and was responsible for building the West Stand.

So he was better at finishing books than stands?

 

[Dick Swiveller]

I love this bit on Russian football.

Each city in every country has its own peculiarities, and so has each stadium. In Moscow, when the spectators are dissatisfied with the conduct of the referee or a player, they shove two fingers in their mouths and set up such a whistling that the pigeons rise on flocks from the neighbouring roofs.

Sometimes they yell to the referee: 'Castor Oil! Put your glasses on!'

Or simply and impressively: 'Get off the field!'

London football crowds express themselves more briefly : 'Boo-oo-oo.'

When a 'Boo' is uttered by hundreds and thousands of spectators it sounds most solemn and effective

If you hear someone shouting 'Castor Oil' at Gavin Ward today, that will be me!

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Last but not least, the start of a chapter titled 'Why "Goldstone" Ground?'

Many of my readers must, at one time or another, have spent a few days' vacation at the so-called Queen of Watering Places, Brighton, built on part of the Sussex Downs and with one of the finest sea fronts in our country. Perhaps some of you, wearying of the glittering palaces of fun and milling crowds, have sought retreat in the open country.

The glorious South Downs, with their gentle hills and vales, offer solitude, with panoramic views of perfect tranquillity. One may see flocks of sheep tended by the simple shepherd, as of old, tucked away in the valleys, and occasional farms with ancient thatched cottages dotted here and there. How diminutive they seem from the apex of a hill; the neat hayricks, the toy-like cows, and minature horses ploughing the fields. How mighty one feels in comparison wit their insignificance, as Gulliver did when he first beheld the country of Lilliput.

If you be a lover of nature, and ponder in your admiration of the English countryside, such thoughts embrace you, and in those precious moments you are enchanted with its genuine unsullied beauty - your soul is purified and thrilled. This is God's work, unspoiled by the hand of man, divine in its peace and simplicity, enriched on a brilliant summer's day with the joyous song of the wild birds.

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Surely no other Club in the Kingdom has had so notorious a figure to "kick-off" for them? And, patient supporter, if you sometimes wonder why the ball runs the wrong way for Brighton hesitate before roaring your disapproval, for who knows, the Devil may still be trying to confound the folk of Sussex!

 

[MattBackHome]

Wonderful stuff

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Also, a photo I don't think I have seen before.

 

[portlock seagull]

Enjoyed that. Thank you for sharing.

 

[GT49er]

Wasn't it Witcher who once melted the pitch at the Goldstone, turning a frozen pitch into an impossible quagmire with a tarring machine?

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Found another interesting bit in the letters section.

I was flattered when the Head Waiter of a well-known Hotel in Brighton tackled me to settle a wager he had with another staunch supporter. The argument between them was this : our friend had stated that he distinctly remembered, when a boy, witnessing a match between Brighton United F.C. (the predecessors of Brighton & Hove Albion) and a team of black players, which took place on the County Cricket Ground at Hove, over 40 years ago. The other supporter said in reply that he had followed the Club during its whole existence, but knew of no such game, and so was of the opinion that it could not have taken place.

Well, the answer was that Brighton United did play a team of Kaffirs at the County Ground, Hove, on Easter Monday, 1899. The blacks played without boots, and were beaten 7-1.

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Albion Academy - 1945/46 style

 

[Dick Swiveller]

I'm going to keep going on the off chance there are a few people who will find this stuff as interesting as I do and haven't seen it before.

Returning home to Brighton with my friend Mr. Percy Harper, Chairman of Crystal Palace F.C., after his club had brought all of their big guns to bear on Brighton's team at Selhurst, thus giving us a good hiding, we reached Brighton Station and found that a police constable was taking a particular interest in Mr. Harper's car, for reasons which do not enter into this story. Mr. Harper, having happily adjusted their differences, pointed to me and said, "Surely you know Mr. Alec Whitcher, one of the Brighton football Directors?" The constable agreed, saying to me, "I liked that book of yours, but what was it like at the Palace to-day ; more of their rough stuff, was it? Always a tough lot, they were. We could never beat them with our best teams, and as for ------- (here he mentioned particular players), well . . . ." Here I intervened to say that he was in the hearing of the Crystal Palace F.C. Chairman, to which he replied, "Well, Sir, I still mean what I said." Mr. Harper thoroughly enjoyed the joke, and in talking over the day's experiences later, we both had a good laugh over this episode

 

[Dick Swiveller]

In a match against Bournemouth last season, Brighton only had ten players, so Sam Cowan, their trainer, turned out at centre-half. During the game the elastic in his knickers gave way, and as the referee did not spot his predicament for some time, he continued playing, holding them up with one hand, greatly to the crowd's amusement, especially when he had to play the ball.

 

[Dick Swiveller]

From the book Soccer Calling from a year earlier, and interesting paragraph given Whitehawk's plans and the emergence of Crawley.

There is one point I have made many times, and whilst the opportunity occurs, allows of stressing again. Brighton has for many years been the only professional football Club in the County of Sussex, and could therefore rightly claim the title "Sussex County F.C." Would it savour of the superstitious to visualise what, if any, reaction this would have on the men of Sussex? We all know the best advertisement is a winning team, but when one considers the future, every avenue has to be explored to get all the support available, even with a winning team.

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Finally, honest, the last part of a chapter called V.E. Day postscript.

So we pass on our beloved Isle unsullied to those who come after us, our hearts full of earnest vows that never again in the world's history must these cries be repeated, and that they may be wiser in their generation than we have been. Thus let us look to the future with pride and courage, and undismayed. Let our great Cup struggles live again, the gaiety of old prevail; let us hear the tuneful "Pompey chimes" burst forth as of yore ; let us hear "Sussex by the Sea" sung as it has never been before ; let the "Hammers" ring, the Millwall "Lions" roar, the proud Tottenham cockspur crow, the "Pensioners" of Chelsea sound their reveille, the "Saints" from Southampton emerge from their cloisters ! Let us hope for a welcome visit from the "Villans" of Birmingham, "Proud" Preston, the "Toffeemen" of Everton, the "Magpies" of Newcastle, and all the rest

 

[Eeyore]

From the book Soccer Calling from a year earlier, and interesting paragraph given Whitehawk's plans and the emergence of Crawley.

There is one point I have made many times, and whilst the opportunity occurs, allows of stressing again. Brighton has for many years been the only professional football Club in the County of Sussex, and could therefore rightly claim the title "Sussex County F.C." Would it savour of the superstitious to visualise what, if any, reaction this would have on the men of Sussex? We all know the best advertisement is a winning team, but when one considers the future, every avenue has to be explored to get all the support available, even with a winning team.

Firstly, do keep publishing the extracts. It's an interesting read.

Secondly, the above is a valid point- one which I pondered many years ago. Although not so feasible now.

 

[Dick Swiveller]

As [MENTION=278]MattBackHome[/MENTION] reminded me of this thread a while back and I found the third book today, I thought I would spend a lazy afternoon looking for more Albion related stuff that might be of interest. The third book is "Sportsman's Club" and not really Albion or even football centric but might still be a few interesting nuggets. Here is a chapter about Tommy Cook.

Thomas E. Cook of Sussex, was a brilliant all-rounder, always good to watch either in fielding, or batting for his county, also an international Soccer player for Brighton & Hove Albion F.C.

"Cook, T.", as he appeared on the score card, always promised stylish batting with many runs, and he rarely disappointed. His speedy footwork allowed him to introduce refreshing variety in his strokes, which puzzled many of our best bowlers; when he got set, his play was a joy to the men of Sussex. As a fielder he had few superiors, and his speed again saved countless runs, and produced many sensational catches. Whilst always on the fringe of selection for England, this honour never came his way, yet he was definitely worthy of the distinction.

Well built, with good shoulders, of medium height, he was a strong, powerful player. He has bowled at times, and I have frequently seen him break up a long partnership, but batting was his forte.

Quiet and unassuming to the point of shyness, he was somewhat temperamental, yet courageous, and never disturbed by any bowler. This is the make-up I would ascribe to him, after many years' acquaintanceship. I have already suggested in a previous book that he retired from the game too early in his career, to take up a coaching appointment in South Africa.

But let me relate what Tommy Cook had to say for himself, when we were able to induce him to talk. He said :-

"I am Sussex born, for I first saw the light of day at Cuckfield, an old village about 14 miles from Brighton. I attended the village school, and finished my education at York Place, and the Technical College, Brighton, later attending the Crystal Palace School of Engineering.

As a kid, I was fond of all ball games, especially cricket, tennis and football.

When I came home from Russia, after serving in the Navy during the 1914-18 war, I decided to take up Marine Engineering, and, as I have said, went to the Crystal Palace School, where I passed the necessary exams. But at that time, unemployment was rife, and ship-building was practically at a standstill. The secretary of the Sussex County Cricket Club agreed to give me a trial at the county ground, and after watching me for two hours, signed me on as a professional. Five weeks later I was included in the Sussex XI against Leicester, and scored 26 runs not out. So I never played as an amateur in Club matches, expect at school and college."

The chapter goes on about his cricket career but I found the background interesting.

 

[Dick Swiveller]

Love this bit about the referee as well. Bear in mind this is from 1948

Consider him for a minute, this man in the middle of the field. He is not dresses as are the others, but clad in funereal black, as a sombre-looking figure amongst the multi coloured twenty-two.

He does not travel to the Ground in a 'chara,' surrounded by his comrades, enjoying their friendliness and merry banter. He arrives alone, clutching the pathetically tiny case against which contains his working clothes. The gateman eyes him askance: too old for a player; not a trainer, he came with the players. Ah, the referee! Musn't seem to be too friendly - he has to be treated with a coolness in keeping with his neutrality.

The referee changes in a small room, and, as he does so, listens to the crowd filling the ground, feeling much as the Christian martyrs must have done as they listened to the baying of the Roman crowd before entering the arena.

He has two watches, and his constant nightmare is that both will stop, and the game go on until the players collapse with exhaustion.

Perhaps he has some physical characteristic which passes unnoticed when in the company of his fellows, but if he be the slightest bit plump, or thin, or bald, be sure that some brass-throated hooligan will name him 'Fatty', or 'Beanstalk' or 'Curly'.

There he stands in his little room, forlornly, watches wound, whistle ready, as the seconds creep by on leadened feet. This is perhaps his worst moment, the moment before mounting the dentist's chair.

At last, he bestirs himself, trots out onto the field, ball tucked under his arm. The captains are called together, and after grim hand-shakes all round, he produces a coin for the ross-up; surely no best man ever clasps the nuptial ring more fervently than the ref is coin (so he carries 'spares'!)

And so the line-up. He looks at his watch, and raises the whistle too his parched lips. Now, there are whistles and whistles. Some scream like an affrighted maid; some issue a low moan which harmonises with the roar of the crowd, becoming thus inaudible, and some (horror of horrors) just don't whistle at all.

But let us suppose that our referee has survived the nerve-wracking preliminaries, and has blown the kick-off with a stern, authoritative note. We can but list a few of the snares that are now set in his way. If he isn't right up with the play, he is at fault, but heaven help him if he should get near enough to obstruct the play.

And then the local idol trips over his own feet. The crowd roars, and the home team surround the referee, their arms raised like a crowd of sun worshippers. The idol's face is contorted with agony (if the incident should occur in the penalty area, all the foregoing is doubled in intensity), and the referee, a few feet away from play, with a perfect view of all that happened, waves play on. Then comes his ordeal by insult. He is invited to visit an oculist; a wit tells him to buy a white stick; small boys in school caps, season ticket holders in bowlers, navvies in cloth caps, in treble, bass and baritone, they swell the chorus of derision. A 'limb of British law' majestically circles the Ground to make sure all is kept within the bounds of 'ref-baiting' tradition.

On the referee's decision rests not only the hopes of the supporters, the state of the Directors' livers, the bonus of the players, but hopes of thousands of Pool punters. His is the hand that points the finger of fate.

At the conclusion of the game, he must refuse any invitation to 'take a spot of something' in the Board Room; such unseemly fraternisation being frowned on by the Association.

We hope he goes home to find comfort from a loving wife - but perhaps she too has put the losing team to win on her coupon!

So let us take our leave of him, as he walks slowly back to the railway station, mingling with the crowds, and becoming one of them ... until next Saturday.

 

[Knocky's Nose]

Albion Academy - 1945/46 style

View attachment 70437

Is that Glenn Murray on the front row?

 

[Dick Swiveller]

A little Albion snippet in a chapter about a referee.

I refer to my good friend Victor Rae, who is the honorary General Secretary of the London Society of Association Referees, and whilst I am acquainted with many of our leading Officials, I know of none more genial and humorous. When he joins your company, with his great smile, you rather expect him to exclaim "You lucky people!" for facially he might pass for another mutual friend, that grand comedian Tommy Trinder who, incidentally, is connected with the game as a Director of Fulham F.C.

I pen this introduction following a match when my team, Brighton, played Notts County. Victor Rae refereed the game and during its progress awarded two penalties against us, so it just goes to show that there is no thought of friendship when on the field! Many thought his decisions severe, but his control of the game was admirable in its correctness. Incidentally, both penalties were save by our brilliant little keeper, Harry Baldwin, whose feat must have reached record class - he has saved fiver penalty kicks in succession!


Little keeper, you say? It'll never catch on. I guess it was one of these two games that happened within 2 days.