Trolleybus: Being a duckie on the bus in the 1940s

Jump to: navigation, search

[[Image:Duckie.jpg|120px|thumb|Joan, standing at the back right, with her “duckie” friends – L-R, Rene Glynn, Scottie, Moe (sitting front) and Rose on the platform of a trolleybus in the 1940s.

The days of Derby's "duckies" have long since passed but many local people still remember the women conductresses on trolleybuses in the 1940s who ran their vehicles as strictly and efficiently as hospital matrons. One of them was Joan Trimmings who recalls what it was like working on a trolleybus.

ONE of the abiding memories of the old Derby trolleybuses was when they suddenly came to a halt in the middle of town as their antenna-type poles flicked off the overhead wires, flailing around in the air and promptly bringing traffic to a standstill

Kids loved it, drivers and bus passengers hated it, and the bus crews went into panic mode.

Joan Trimmings (nee Hall), of Alvaston, remembers it well for she was a young “duckie” – as the conductresses were affectionately known – back in 1945 and even today, at the age of 85, she is still urged by her grandchildren to re-tell them stories about her wartime work.

Now 85, she can recall every moment of the job and though, over her four years as a clippie, she must have collected thousands of pounds in pennies, sixpences and shillings, and clipped countless bus tickets, it was looking after the overhead wire problem which she remembers most vividly.

Powered by electricity through overhead cable wires, the trolleys were incredibly energy efficient and, from six in the morning till late at night, transported tens of thousands of workers to and from their jobs at all the local factories, as well as ferrying passengers around the town centre and out to the sprouting suburbs.

They replaced the trams and ran for three decades before modern motorised buses took over.

“Sometimes, in town, when our routes crossed, the trolley’s poles shot up in the air, straggling all over the place, as the wires crossed each other. The bus came to a sudden halt and it would cause quite a panic.

“You had to jump off the back and try and pull them back onto the wires. The traffic would build up and people would be either mad or joke about it.”

It was more than Joan’s twin sister, Joyce, could stand and she gave up being a “duckie” after only six weeks.

Laughed Joan: “Her trolley had come out of the bus station one day and was going along Osmaston Road when it came off its wires. Joyce rushed to get the pole to put it back on track, but it was very heavy and she accidentally let it go. The pole shot up in the air and pulled down all the wires. She was mortified.

“Workmen had to come along to put them back up, but that was the end of her ‘duckie’ career. She just didn’t want any more of it.”

Joan carried on for nearly four years, made many friends and quite enjoyed being captain of her own ship.

Derby Corporation trolley bus No.165 pictured in 1942 in Albert Street, Derby

“We were really fully in charge of the bus because the driver was right at the front and you could only speak to him through a small window behind his seat.

“So, if there was any trouble, you had to deal with it yourself. Passengers boarded and alighted at the back where the conductors stood to make sure everyone was safe, before ringing the bell so we could move on.

“We, occasionally, had a few ‘ta-tas’ with people, but there was no violence or fighting like you get today. Mind you, there were very strict rules – people had to board in the right place and food and drink was banned.”

Joan recalls one occasion when she had an altercation with a six foot tall man who tried to board her bus at Derby Railway Station while eating fish and chips.

“I had to pull him up and he argued a bit. But then I told him it was the rule, so he threw away the food and got on just like a little lamb, having been told off by me who was all of five feet two,” she laughed.

Jumping on while the trolley was stationary but not at an official bus stop, or while it was moving, was also contravening the rules and there were numerous occasions where little Joan had to order people off.

“They took it pretty well, though I remember a Bemrose schoolboy who started playing about and dinging the bells. I chucked him straight off and, when he said he’d bring his mum down, I said: ‘You go ahead and do that.’ You really had to be strict, otherwise you’d be in trouble with your inspector.”

American servicemen who were stationed around the area were regular passengers. They used to chat up the duckies and try to persuade them to be friendly by offering a pair of nylons.

“I remember one who got a bit cheeky and tried to jump on at The Spot. I ordered him off and told him he couldn’t get on until we reached the stop.

“Next thing, we were at the bottom of St Peter’s Street and there he was again.

“‘Hi-yah, honey.’

“I told him straight: ‘You are not coming on this bus. You will have to go to the Market Place.’

“ When we arrived, there he was. ‘Hi-yah honey,’ he said. I smiled and told him he could get on. Then I picked up my bag, for what he didn’t realise was that I was going off duty then,” she laughed.

Born in 1920, in Princes Street, Joan remembers the poverty of the Depression when many families survived on a diet of bread and dripping, lard and porridge, bread and jam and the occasional stick of rhubarb.

“If things were short, neighbours would give you something. We would often sit outside on the window sill and eat what a nice neighbour had offered.

“But, despite all the problems, there was a very happy community spirit everywhere,” she said.

In the early days, Joan worked at Rolls-Royce. She and her sister and friends used go dancing at St Andrew’s Youth Club, where she eventually met her husband, Arthur, who spent 49 years working at the Carriage and Wagon as an inspector.

They married in 1942 at St Thomas’ Church and Joan was one of the fortunate wartime brides who wore a white wedding dress which she later lent to her sister to wear when she was a bride.

“I wore the bridesmaid dress she had for my wedding. Everyone in those days shared. Sadly, that community spirit doesn’t seem to have survived very much today.”

Pages linking here