Tweet

	Gallantry		Gallantry

	John Connolly
	Order of Industrial Heroism
	Date:	Mar 1958
	Colliery:	Tanfield Lea Colliery
	Occupation:	Miner

 

By Margaret Pycroft

Anyone who uses the word "teenager" as a term of disgust should be introduced to 17-year-old miner John Connolly.

On Saturday he will put on his best suit to receive the Workers' V.C. — the Daily Herald Order of Industrial Heroism.

And his workmates, officials, and management — among them grizzled Durham miners who have worked in the pit all their lives — will give him a gold watch inscribed with a tribute.

Birthday

For John proved to them all one afternoon last March that his generation has its fair share of courage.

It was an afternoon they will never forget.

Young John was then only 16. He had been working at Tanfield Lea Colliery, Co. Durham — the same pit as his father — for barely 14 weeks.

The men liked him for his cheerful face and the fact that he could take a ragging about his piano playing and his love of composers like Chopin and Brahms.

That cold March day he was working in the Beaumont seam.

Overman Syd Rutherford, father of four, was about 60 yards away.

Coal-filler Bill Barker was near him. It was Bill's 21st birthday. Everybody had tried to persuade him to take the day off. But he insisted on doing his shift.

Suddenly the whole world seemed to be caving in. Tons and tons of real and rubble came crashing down.

But John didn't think twice. He knew somebody would be buried. And he found Syd Rutherford trapped by his legs.

At any moment the roof would cave in again. This time it would be fatal. Yet young John clawed with his hands until he freed Syd.

Then he dragged him to safety and yelled for help.

It was much harder to find Bill, the boy who should have been celebrating his 21st.

He had been buried by the first fall. The second piled on top again. It took four and a half hours before he was released. Then he died.

Quietly working along with the rescuers was John Connolly.

He carried on until the end of his shift. When he got to the surface he quietly handed in his lamp and set off home.

Going down the pit road he met his father, just starting his shift.

"There's been a nasty 'do' on Beaumont seam, Dad," he said. But not a word about his part in it.

Seconds...

John's father didn't know what his son had done until his mates told him in the pit baths that night.

I met John and Syd Rutherford in the lamp cabin at Tanfield pit this week.

Syd had plenty to say about the teenager whose hands had clawed him away from death.

"There are grown men who wouldn't have had the guts to do what he did," he said. "He pulled me out with only seconds to spare.

"I remember he was talking to me all the time to give me confidence — but I can't tell you to this day what he said."

'Good stuff'

What Syd won't tell you about himself is that after he had been rescued he refused to leave the seam, but stayed on to keep up telephone connection with the surface.

Under-manager Donald Tweedy patted John's broad shoulder, grinned at his black face under the helmet and said to me:

"He's a fine lad. You hear enough about delinquency among teenagers these days. John's story proves that there's some good stuff in this generation."

What did John feel about mining after such a tragic start?

"It didn't put me off," he said firmly. "In fact after the accident I decided to make mining my career. I'm going to night school to study coal.

"At one time I fancied being a policeman. But I reckon I would rather be a colliery manager one day."

With a shy grin, John handed in his lamp and set off for his home in nearby Park-road, South Moor, Stanley.

The young miner was going home to play Chopin — and his workmates started talking again about the teenager who will become one of the youngest Workers' V.C.s ever.

Source: (Unknown) (Dec 1958)

What is your name?
What is your contact email address?
What is your research interest?