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Big Pat

Forged with history

We live in an age where increasingly heritage comes with a price. A price often too high for communities, but affordable by ‘developers’.

Soporific [Soppo] is a little village in Cheshire, England. A couple of miles from Wuckey, a town the same distance from Given Up and Madness.

A long time ago, there was a small factory in Soppo making tools, spades, shovels, picks etc. Competition from larger companies, plus other factors led to its closure about thirty years ago.

The factory was flattened, and on the site was built a supermarket and about six shops. The centre was called the ‘Forge,’ and a couple of the machines from the factory were renovated and placed at the entrance, making the connection with history.

The move was very popular with local residents.

One of my favourite ‘strap lines’ about any product is that of a beer brewed in the ‘Black County.’ The line is: ‘Unspoiled by Progress.’ Priceless.

Unfortunately, the ‘Forge’ was about to be ruined by ‘progress.’ Only one of the machines was left [the other had been ‘spirited’ away years before], and the local rag reported that ‘developers’ were to remove it, as it was in the way of ‘proposed changes’ to the shopping precinct.

The slow but steady removal of power from local communities, increasing government centralisation, cloned, supine politicians, an explosion of bureaucracy, and a drugged, obese, reality tv’d, alcopopped, monosodium glutamated wave of indifference has led many to accept our heritage being vandalised.

But ‘they’ reckoned without ‘Big Pat.’

The machine in question had reportedly been ‘taken away for scrap’ by ‘developers.’ Sorry I should have added the scandal of anonymity to the rant above. ‘No-one’ knew where the machine had been taken, and the local councillors declared ‘nothing can be done.’ Cue anguished looks, the wringing of hands, and the mass abdication of responsibility.

In a few years time, the last survivors of that enduring insanity that was the First World War will be dead. All that will remain are cenotaph’s, poppies, a suitably solemn ‘Big Bet’ [the Queen], and sepia-tone photos in millions of homes. Those who were there will be forever silent.

Big Pat is a local celebrity in Soppo, using fame only to get things done. 6’ 3”, built like a brick outhouse, addicted to fried bread and black puddings, he drives a big white van, pretty courteously most of the time.

‘They’ had been ‘at it’ before. Wanted to close the local school. A fine building, fine school, the justification for its demise was a problem even for those who supported it. In other words there was none.

When I was a kid, I recall watching an event on TV that changed my life. It was about the mafia in the USA, I think in the 1950’s. The top people in the mafia were worried about the FBI and other agencies getting too close to them. Bribes and coercion had their limits. So the head honcho, or his deputy decided to mobilise Italian-American support. A campaign was launched. So successful was it, that the closing rally in Central Park was one of the biggest in US history. The message was-stop persecuting us, there is no mafia, leave us alone. Yes, the rousing speech was delivered by the no. 1 or 2 of the mafia.

I’m pretty sure the mafia are not implicated in Soppo skulduggery. But like Big Pat, I have little confidence in the sleeping population that now has six more restaurants to broaden its waistline, and who cares about an old bit of scrap anyway?

Big Pat and his friends saved the local school.

The machine was a forge that used to make spades ands shovels which were used by British soldiers in the trenches at the Somme. Old Soppo spades are still being found today. This month is the 90^th anniversary of the battle of the Somme. In total over 1 million British, French and German troops died, and [a record] 58,000 British troops died on the opening day.

After using those rare commodities, intelligence, purpose and persistence, Pat’s friends found out where the machine had been taken. The scrap yard dealer was shocked when he was told of its history and agreed to return it for a reduced price.

Pat and his allies confronted the local politicians, who were to swap anguish for outrage. At the meeting, unknown to all except Pat’s group was one of the family who used to own the original forge factory. The politicians exhibited a range of emotions both outwardly and inwardly-guilt, shame, anger, powerlessness and finally outrage when Pat revealed they had found and secured the machine. This was after he had secured needed donations [to pay for it and its transportation] from both the council, and the previous owner!

There was another factory in Soppo making tools for the war effort. It had been knocked down years before the Forge. On its old site, the spade making machine would be placed, a reminder to those drinking at the pub next door that many of their ancestors had needlessly lost their lives in the madness that is war.

My late father helped to find Polish immigrants who used to work at the old factory jobs at his company. I was a pupil at the school Big Pat saved. And I’ve enjoyed more than a few pints at the nearby pub.

Thanks Pat. I’m a vegetarian, but there must be something in those black puddings…

JS, 13/7/06.