Cornwall art and culture from genius loci

That magical summer of ‘60

Just last night I was having a clear out in the loft, and I found this old postcard by the then local artist Brian jay, titled ‘summer of 60’. It is a huge thing more an A4 sized print on stiff card than a postcard but on the back are the address panel etc. However on the front is a print from a painting by Brian of two steam tank locomotives straining to haul 10 coaches full of people and luggage plus guards van of the ‘up’ Cornish Riviera to St.Erth, there to join the main line Riviera from Penzance back to London.

It would have taken two of these little steam shunters to do this because those coaches would have been loaded with both sitting and standing passengers and all the luggage they brought with them for a week or two at St.Ives, the favoured holiday destination for factory workers all over the country. Below the train is Porthminister beach at about half tide, people spread out all over the beach and in the water, the bathing raft afloat with folk standing by it and on it. It looks a midday scene judging from the length of the shadows and the height of the water says it is about half tide because there is a faint line still visible where the water had reached up the beach.

Those years of the sixties where incredible years for me, I can remember Fore Street so crowded with people one could not walk up it to the Digey without dodging folk just ambling along in the summer sun. Then we had distinct weeks when factories shut for the annual holiday and factory overhaul, and places like Swindon, Manchester and Liverpool, Birmingham and Coventry and it seemed like all the famous cities seemed to crowd our narrow little cobble-strewn streets. Those same streets are now mostly covered in tarmac because of the recent culture of suing for damages imported from the U.S.

I digress! Those hot magical days were filled with rock groups and ‘beatnicks’, artists and locals all mixing together in one polyglot society. I do not remember trouble, people where quite content to wander about the town or take a coach tour from the sea front in coaches’ run by ‘Crimson tours’ and ‘Stevens’s coaches’ taking folk away for the day on mystery tours or Lands End. The sea front smelt of sun tan oil and fish and chips and baking sun tanned humanity. Trips to Seal Island did a roaring trade taking folk out down the magnificent coast to the Western Carracks or Seal Island, a group of rocks where the seals rested and scratched huge bellies, and Bull seals bellowed at the boats. Cameras clicked and whirred, for these people to be so close to the real wild was an event that had to recorded to show those back at home.

The music, well the air was full of groups then just starting now famous, in every pub a juke box roared out it’s music with groups like 3 dog night, the who and pink Floyd, Queen and Rolling stones, and of course the latest offering by the Beatles. There seemed to be so many groups that for a young teenager like me well into his up to date music scene of that era there where too many groups to name today. (The old grey cells don’t work so well). I do remember those long summer evenings though. The Sun setting over Porthmeor beach and shedding that gorgeous pink light on the Island was guaranteed to melt any young girls heart and determination! The harbour at high tide with not a ripple on the surface; millions of sand eels (local name Lincey or Lincy) chasing and being chased around the harbour. The water so clear flatfish could be seen fluttering along the bottom looking for unwary rag worms or Lugworm.

The town band played on the front twice a week then, competing with the jukebox and various other noises coming from the amusement arcade across the wharf from them, and winning the battle easily. Crowds collected then to listen as the evening light mellowed over the town, and the sun warmed granite walls of the harbour made a welcome resting place to just sit and watch the activity. It was a magical decade for a young man, an introduction to the world outside of his homeland and town.

I sat there in the loft and remembered and felt a very fortunate man.
Clies Stevens 2007
Kernow bys Viken

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