When the first nuclear power station was built at Dungeness over forty years ago it was suddenly realized that it would obstruct the lights from the old lighthouse to ships approaching from the West. It was decided that another one would have to be built quickly to the East of the old one and further out at a point nearer the sea. The old lighthouse was a manned lighthouse, they decided they would build a new fully automatic one, a prototype of the lamphouse kind.
The main contract for building the lighthouse was awarded to a firm called Taylor Woodrow but the actual lamppost which would be the centrepiece of the lighthouse containing the light at the top was awarded to a Rye Harbour firm, Spun Concrete Ltd. I worked there for most of my life. I went there as a boy of eighteen and left at sixty-four when the firm was finally taken over and closed down.
At the time the contract was awarded there was a group of us currently making lampposts, so the lamppost moulds were put to one side and the “lamppost gang,” as we were called, were the ones chosen to make the lighthouse.
The Foreman in charge was Ted Southerden. Another member of the gang I remember well was Norman Clark, a “Rye Harbour Duck”, as we would call him. He was probably the eldest of the gang. He had two brothers, William and Lesley, who went down in the lifeboat disaster back in 1928. Norman, a wonderful ‘fella’ – wonderful character.
Another one I remember was Bert Terrell, a little ‘fella’, he lived on the Tilling Green Estate. Everyone called him Massey. Unfortunately as he got older he began to have a few heart problems and sadly, poor chap, suffered a massive heart attack while cycling to work from which he never recovered. And of course there was myself and I remember one other, Dennis Wilson, we called him Tug. He lived down King’s Avenue I believe.
The moulds were made by a local firm, Steel Moulds Ltd. We called it “Stale Mose”. They were based down at Charing. Their Manager was a man named Dennis Dee who was at one time manager of Spun Concrete which he left to go to Steel Moulds. His brother was Peter Dee who everyone in Rye knows as a councillor and Alderman, still going now is Peter. Dennis, his brother is the man who drew up the drawings and made up the moulds for us.
The mould duly arrived and we cast the base and concreted it onto a nice flat bit of ground so that it was nice and secure The core of the lighthouse was erected first, section by section it was bolted tightly together. On some sections we had to fit in a window, a porthole size window which had to be bolted in and oiled very carefully with a special mould oil. Not too much oil and not too little, just enough so the unit wouldn’t stick but not too much so it didn’t stain because it had to be perfect!
Then, the huge Reinforcement Unit, made by our “Reo” gang over in the Rye Shop, came in and we lifted it up with a big, old, overhead crane which hung up in the roof all the while Spun Concrete was working there. That was one of my jobs to drive that big old crane. The Reinforcement Unit was lifted in right over the top of the core and lowered exactly into the right position. There were holes every so often where the great big steel rods were put down all greased up because they would have to be pulled out. These were the holes where the big stressing bars would go right up through the entire lighthouse to keep the sections together. The outside of the mould was put on next and bolted together exactly into position so that it was an even distance from the core. It all fitted together like magic! Everything was tightened up so it was perfect then it was ready for filling.
To fill it we put a wooden platform up on top of the mould just to cover the inside of it. One of my jobs would be to get inside of the core and put scaffolding up so it would take the weight of the concrete that was going to be dumped on it by the three men that were up there filling it. Old Massey, he was the mixer driver, he went down and would start up the mixer and make the concrete. The concrete would be tipped out into a big hopper and we would pick that up. I’d take the mobile trailer and tip it on top of the platform. The three men up there would shovel it slowly and gently into the mould and another man would hold a big vibrating poker like a big length of hose pipe with a steel head on the end which would vibrate. It worked off compressed air. Another man would apply a vibrating “kango hammer” on the outside of the mould, where the windows and things like that would be, to make sure that bit got packed with cement. It was filled steadily and carefully so they could watch the concrete rise, see it come carefully around the windows right to the top and when it was full it was trowelled off. Norman Clark was a wonderful man with trowels, he worked until it was all nice and level, then it was left to cure.
Now the lighthouse was going to be made with black and white sections. Two or three black sections were put in first, then two or three white sections all the way up. Have a look at it and see, black, white, black, white. In an ideal situation we would have been able to make all the black sections first then switch and make all the white sections but such was the nature of the job, that wasn’t possible.
The sections were wanted down at the site as soon as they were hard enough to travel so we had to make two or three black sections then switch to white. I remember so well, we made the black section first. None of us had ever used black concrete before. I went down with little Bert and we weighed up the aggregate to put in the hopper and got it dead right, then put the two hundredweight sacks of cement on the top. Bert would split them open with his old knife and tip them gently on top. We could see straight away that it was going to be a bit mucky because the black cement was like soot. Up at the top they were ready and Bert pulled the handle that took this big hopper into the mixer. None of us expected what happened next. Up went the hopper and BANG, it went in and there was a big cloud like an atom bomb had gone off completely covering everything in this black soot-like powder. Massey disappeared from view. I stood at the back and heard the hopper go down. Gradually the black cloud subsided and there stood little Bert, completely black, his little eyes shining through. He just looked at me and said two words,”Bloody ‘ell!” That was what the black stuff was like and when it came out wet it was even worse. We had to wear boiler suits and industrial gloves because we got so filthy. Anyway we made the black sections which we brought out the next morning. Before we lifted a section out we had to pull out the big steel rods. All the greased rods came out first, then we would take the outside of the moulds off which we would carefully prise away so you didn’t tear the concrete.
Over came the big old overhead crane which we had a special frame made to provide lifting points all around the mould. Up it came and was put to one side then the concrete finisher, name of Ted Smith, from down King’s Avenue put the final finishing touches so it looked good.
The trouble was when we were going to make the white section. The mould had to be cleaned spotless so every section was laid on its back and we had big buckets full of washing powder and bass brooms and we scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed ‘till that mould was spotless. Then we dried it off with cotton waste until there were no marks and it really looked good. It was then re-erected ready to make the white section.
After two or three days we steam cured the unit by putting steam pipes under them. A low loader lorry would come out from Hastings. We’d load just one unit because that’s all it could take. It was measured up so that it was dead central as it overhung the sides of the lorry quite a lot. It was sent off to Dungeness with a police escort, as a wide load. We never saw what happened at Dungeness, not until the end. We’d carry on with the next section. We went on like that and when we got to the top we had to make a special white section which had to be all fluted with cone shaped holes going through to let out the sound of the fog horn which was fitted in this top unit. The flutes were made of steel and had to be attached exactly into position so they would come out neatly in the morning. We filled it with the white cement and at dawn gently eased all the flutes out – they came out clean as a whistle! They were then lifted over for old Ted Smith to finish. When it was done it looked absolutely beautiful.
The very top section, ( you can see if you look from the old lighthouse) tapers out and was too big to transport so it had to built down at Dungeness itself so when the fluted white section went down Tug Wilson and I were sent too. We had to check out the mould which had been out on the point for a week or two but the first thing we did was to unload the fluted foghorn section. There was a big crane with a hundred and seventy foot jig hired from a firm called Sparrows. I walked over to the crane driver and asked him if there would be any chance of lifting this thing off with it. He was a soft spoken Irishmen
When the first nuclear power station was built at Dungeness over forty years ago it was suddenly realized that it would obstruct the lights from the old lighthouse to ships approaching from the West. It was decided that another one would have to be built quickly to the East of the old one and further out at a point nearer the sea. The old lighthouse was a manned lighthouse, they decided they would build a new fully automatic one, a prototype of the lamphouse kind.
The main contract for building the lighthouse was awarded to a firm called Taylor Woodrow but the actual lamppost which would be the centrepiece of the lighthouse containing the light at the top was awarded to a Rye Harbour firm, Spun Concrete Ltd. I worked there for most of my life. I went there as a boy of eighteen and left at sixty-four when the firm was finally taken over and closed down.
At the time the contract was awarded there was a group of us currently making lampposts, so the lamppost moulds were put to one side and the “lamppost gang,” as we were called, were the ones chosen to make the lighthouse.
The Foreman in charge was Ted Southerden. Another member of the gang I remember well was Norman Clark, a “Rye Harbour Duck”, as we would call him. He was probably the eldest of the gang. He had two brothers, William and Lesley, who went down in the lifeboat disaster back in 1928. Norman, a wonderful ‘fella’ – wonderful character.
Another one I remember was Bert Terrell, a little ‘fella’, he lived on the Tilling Green Estate. Everyone called him Massey. Unfortunately as he got older he began to have a few heart problems and sadly, poor chap, suffered a massive heart attack while cycling to work from which he never recovered. And of course there was myself and I remember one other, Dennis Wilson, we called him Tug. He lived down King’s Avenue I believe.
The moulds were made by a local firm, Steel Moulds Ltd. We called it “Stale Mose”. They were based down at Charing. Their Manager was a man named Dennis Dee who was at one time manager of Spun Concrete which he left to go to Steel Moulds. His brother was Peter Dee who everyone in Rye knows as a councillor and Alderman, still going now is Peter. Dennis, his brother is the man who drew up the drawings and made up the moulds for us.
The mould duly arrived and we cast the base and concreted it onto a nice flat bit of ground so that it was nice and secure The core of the lighthouse was erected first, section by section it was bolted tightly together. On some sections we had to fit in a window, a porthole size window which had to be bolted in and oiled very carefully with a special mould oil. Not too much oil and not too little, just enough so the unit wouldn’t stick but not too much so it didn’t stain because it had to be perfect!
Then, the huge Reinforcement Unit, made by our “Reo” gang over in the Rye Shop, came in and we lifted it up with a big, old, overhead crane which hung up in the roof all the while Spun Concrete was working there. That was one of my jobs to drive that big old crane. The Reinforcement Unit was lifted in right over the top of the core and lowered exactly into the right position. There were holes every so often where the great big steel rods were put down all greased up because they would have to be pulled out. These were the holes where the big stressing bars would go right up through the entire lighthouse to keep the sections together. The outside of the mould was put on next and bolted together exactly into position so that it was an even distance from the core. It all fitted together like magic! Everything was tightened up so it was perfect then it was ready for filling.
To fill it we put a wooden platform up on top of the mould just to cover the inside of it. One of my jobs would be to get inside of the core and put scaffolding up so it would take the weight of the concrete that was going to be dumped on it by the three men that were up there filling it. Old Massey, he was the mixer driver, he went down and would start up the mixer and make the concrete. The concrete would be tipped out into a big hopper and we would pick that up. I’d take the mobile trailer and tip it on top of the platform. The three men up there would shovel it slowly and gently into the mould and another man would hold a big vibrating poker like a big length of hose pipe with a steel head on the end which would vibrate. It worked off compressed air. Another man would apply a vibrating “kango hammer” on the outside of the mould, where the windows and things like that would be, to make sure that bit got packed with cement. It was filled steadily and carefully so they could watch the concrete rise, see it come carefully around the windows right to the top and when it was full it was trowelled off. Norman Clark was a wonderful man with trowels, he worked until it was all nice and level, then it was left to cure.
Now the lighthouse was going to be made with black and white sections. Two or three black sections were put in first, then two or three white sections all the way up. Have a look at it and see, black, white, black, white. In an ideal situation we would have been able to make all the black sections first then switch and make all the white sections but such was the nature of the job, that wasn’t possible.
The sections were wanted down at the site as soon as they were hard enough to travel so we had to make two or three black sections then switch to white. I remember so well, we made the black section first. None of us had ever used black concrete before. I went down with little Bert and we weighed up the aggregate to put in the hopper and got it dead right, then put the two hundredweight sacks of cement on the top. Bert would split them open with his old knife and tip them gently on top. We could see straight away that it was going to be a bit mucky because the black cement was like soot. Up at the top they were ready and Bert pulled the handle that took this big hopper into the mixer. None of us expected what happened next. Up went the hopper and BANG, it went in and there was a big cloud like an atom bomb had gone off completely covering everything in this black soot-like powder. Massey disappeared from view. I stood at the back and heard the hopper go down. Gradually the black cloud subsided and there stood little Bert, completely black, his little eyes shining through. He just looked at me and said two words,”Bloody ‘ell!” That was what the black stuff was like and when it came out wet it was even worse. We had to wear boiler suits and industrial gloves because we got so filthy. Anyway we made the black sections which we brought out the next morning. Before we lifted a section out we had to pull out the big steel rods. All the greased rods came out first, then we would take the outside of the moulds off which we would carefully prise away so you didn’t tear the concrete.
Over came the big old overhead crane which we had a special frame made to provide lifting points all around the mould. Up it came and was put to one side then the concrete finisher, name of Ted Smith, from down King’s Avenue put the final finishing touches so it looked good.
The trouble was when we were going to make the white section. The mould had to be cleaned spotless so every section was laid on its back and we had big buckets full of washing powder and bass brooms and we scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed ‘till that mould was spotless. Then we dried it off with cotton waste until there were no marks and it really looked good. It was then re-erected ready to make the white section.
After two or three days we steam cured the unit by putting steam pipes under them. A low loader lorry would come out from Hastings. We’d load just one unit because that’s all it could take. It was measured up so that it was dead central as it overhung the sides of the lorry quite a lot. It was sent off to Dungeness with a police escort, as a wide load. We never saw what happened at Dungeness, not until the end. We’d carry on with the next section. We went on like that and when we got to the top we had to make a special white section which had to be all fluted with cone shaped holes going through to let out the sound of the fog horn which was fitted in this top unit. The flutes were made of steel and had to be attached exactly into position so they would come out neatly in the morning. We filled it with the white cement and at dawn gently eased all the flutes out – they came out clean as a whistle! They were then lifted over for old Ted Smith to finish. When it was done it looked absolutely beautiful.
The very top section, ( you can see if you look from the old lighthouse) tapers out and was too big to transport so it had to built down at Dungeness itself so when the fluted white section went down Tug Wilson and I were sent too. We had to check out the mould which had been out on the point for a week or two but the first thing we did was to unload the fluted foghorn section. There was a big crane with a hundred and seventy foot jig hired from a firm called Sparrows. I walked over to the crane driver and asked him if there would be any chance of lifting this thing off with it. He was a soft spoken Irishmen with jet black hair. He said in a strong Irish accent that it would be no trouble at all, that anything you want to do with it can be done and to check with the Foreman Mick McArthy if it was going to be used for a long time. Anyway over came this great big crane, down came the hook and I have never seen a hook as big as that hook. It looked like a giant wardrobe, that was the size of it and it needed to be that big because when you worked out that you’ve got a hundred and seventy foot jig and its got to put all that steel cable down. When its empty there is no weight on the end so it has to be a heavy old jig. Anyway we hooked the section on and lifted it out and it swung out onto the beach. There was a gang of Irish fellows working for Tyler Woodrow, they all gathered around and I heard one them say, “that’s the finest piece of concrete I ever saw in ‘me life” and it did look beautiful. Mike McArthy the foreman came over and looked at it. He just said, “You boys know your job, you know a bit of concrete!” I told him that we’re making the last sections and we’d need the crane quite a bit and he said we’d work something out.
So we walked over to the point to look at the mould, there it lay, covered in rust. A special sanding machine with a grinding wheel on it was sent out to grind the rust off and I got filthy! To get all the rust off we had to take turns with the grinder and that mould was cleaned until it was spotless. We then oiled it right away to prevent it getting rusted again and it was ready to be filled the next morning.
It was February with the wind blowing from the East. I was the coldest I’ve ever been. One of the directors of Spun Concrete came out and told Ted to take us to the pub every lunch time to warm up. So that’s what we did in the Britannia pub. We had hot food and were careful to only have one pint of beer because we were working.
We made this giant white section which tapered out at the top with a great big window in it. The very last section of all was known as, “the big cap”. The mould for that was very simple as its just like a big huge slab of heavily reinforced concrete. Making, “The Big Cap”, was the easiest job of all. We put it on and left it there.
The rest was up to Taylor Woodrow. The job was finished as far as we were concerned. We were back the next week making lampposts. About a month after we finished Trinity House took us to Dungeness and we all had photographs taken at the lighthouse.
To me, it was a wonderful achievement for that little firm of Spun Concrete at Rye Harbour and for “the gang” to have built the lighthouse. As I said before I worked at ‘Spun’ for most of my life starting out as a boy in the store and ending up as a Foreman. If I get time I may have some more little stories for this wonderful little magazine.
Rye’s Own March 2015
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