Back to Jiving Joe's heyday

WHEN Denis Brown was a teenage bopper, the only way to get round the Sunday dancing laws was to head for the Liverpool Pier Head.

Denis, of Sutton Leach, is just one among countless St Helens lads who look back with fondness on those Mersey cruise dances when jiving Joe Redmond was the slickest dance-floor performer in town.

Picking up on Parr reader Ken Melling's 'fifties and 'sixties reminiscences, which recently rocked across this page, Denis takes us just a touch further back in time.

"I'm talking about the late 1940s," he says, "when my mates and I would hop aboard the Liverpool bus from Victoria Square, St Helens, and then take the tram to the pier head."

Summertime river-cruise dances were all the rage and those Royal Iris hops were full to the gunnels with teenagers.

"It was the only way we could enjoy a dance on Sundays," explains Denis. For though dancing on the sabbath was then prohibited, there was a loophole which permitted this ankle-flicking social activity while at sea.

On the mainland, Saturday night dances had to be cleared before midnight to prevent them spilling into the sabbath. "There weren't even Sunday cinema shows at the time I'm speaking about," says Denis, "these only came later."

Denis remembers his Sunday timetable well. The Royal Iris ferry would surge out from New Brighton at 7pm and cross the Mersey to pick up at the pier head at 7.30.

Our Sutton chum recalls: "We'd sail out to the bar where, as the boat slowly idled around, the captain would speak over the tannoy system, telling the passengers about two wrecks at the mouth of the river - their top masts still breaking through the surface."

All too soon, the Royal Iris would chug into New Brighton by 9pm for those dancers from 'the other side' to disembark. Then it headed into Liverpool half-an-hour later for the rest - including a good proportion of St Helenians - to step ashore.

As it was still early for a balmy summer's evening, Denis and his gang would avail themselves of one of the smaller out-of-the-way pubs dotted around the city, including quite a few under the old overhead railway.

Then it was quick-march to Lime Street, leaving just enough time to tuck into a pie from the mobile cafe opposite the station before jumping onto the 12.45 Glasgow milk train, halting briefly at St Helens Shaw Street station by 1.40am.

Then the young revellers would face the final early-morning walk home.

Denis, picking up on previous Mersey ferry contributions to this cobwebby page, adds: "I think your previous correspondent was slightly mistaken in saying that the Royal Daffodil II was launched in 1934.

"This," he ventures, "must have been the first one, because I remember the Royal Daffodil II as a brand-new boat launched about 1948. We thought it was superb.

It had a fish-and-chip bar on board and in the gents was a notice which said: 'We aim to please; you, too, aim to please.' Quite a novel piece of humour for those times.

There were two on-board bands, alternating week by week, though their names escape Denis.

But someone he'll never forget is Joe Redmond. "He was a fantastic jive exponent," says Denis, "everyone would clear the floor when he got up, then, eventually, one or two others would also take to the floor to try to emulate him.

I wonder," sighs Denis, "what became of Joe?"

These days, the late-night streets of any town or city can be something of a jungle. But Denis recalls that his ferry dance evenings were pleasant and completely free of trouble, either on board or in the city.

"Perhaps," he signs off, "one or two of my old mates may read this and would care to add their own contributions."