Knocking Down Gingerorder this book
John Gorman
Price £16.50

John Gorman is known for his book on trade union banners, Banner Bright, along with his other writing on labour history. The present book is his early autobiography, and gives a vivid picture of working class life, along with Gorman's passionate commitment to socialism and the union movement. Anecdotal, humourous and nostalgic, the book captures the flavour of the thirties, evokes the spirit of London during the blitz, and tells of the hope for a new and better Britain in 1945. The book is of topical interest as its publication coincides with the celebration of the ending of the war in Europe. John Gorman also tells the story of his lasting friendship with Lionel Bart, the Jewish lad from Stepney, who was to acheive world fame as the composer of the musical, Oliver. From the moment of their first meeting in 1948, and their National Service in the RAF, Gorman traces their formative design and screen printing company. Full of warmth and humanity, Knocking Down Ginger is a fine and revealing autobiograpy which should be of interest to both the social historian and the general reader.

From Chapter 1, "The Houses In Between":

"Just across the road from the chip shop was Warman’s dairy, and it was a real dairy, through the open door behind the counter you could see the cows in their stalls and breathe the sweet smell of fresh grassy milk. On some summer days the cows were herded to graze on Wanstead Flats, the nearest grazing-land to East London. The flats were part of Epping Forest, always described by my teacher as ‘the lung of London.’ Occasionally I would be sent to have a jug filled with milk if we had run short, but only then, for our allegiance was to the London Co-op who delivered daily by handcart, the milk coming in half-pint and pint size bottles sealed with cardboard tops.

"I never passed the butcher’s shop when it was closed, without experiencing pride and a sense of reflected glory, because the strong wooden shutters that secured the shop had been made by my father. They were framed and jointed, solid and varnished to a rich treacle colour, six tall panels slotted into place and fastened by a long black iron bar, padlocked at both ends. They were made during a period of unemployment, in his shed in the backyard of our house. If I felt pride each time I looked at them, my father felt robbed of just reward for his labour. He had persuaded the butcher to have new shutters by bargaining on the price until he agreed to make them for a few pounds, which after the cost of timber measured the profit in shillings. The handful of coins helped to eke out the dole, a starvation pittance that had already driven him to sell two sets of my cigarette cards to a second-hand bookshop for threepence, the price of two sausages and a few potatoes to provide a dinner for the family when we were faced with hunger. Half a sausage each with a boiled potato. The desperation that drove a kindly man and a skilled craftsman to sell his little boy’s treasured but pathetic collection in order to provide food seared his pride. Means tested misery heaped humiliation upon helplessness, creating an anger stoked by poverty towards the absolute unfairness of capitalism. The hurt was suppressed and seldom revealed, but it remained with him until the end of his days."

ISBN 1850660182. Hardback 272 pages, plus 16 pages of illustrations.

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