The history of St. Ann’s has always been a fascinating one. Today, the idea that the council could bulldoze entire areas of communities separating neighbours and friends is one that is difficult to imagine. However, for those who lived it, it’s still all too real. CJ De Barra speaks to St Ann’s born-and-bred author Simon Smalley about growing up in the area as a young gay man in the 60s and 70s.
In his memoir, That Boy of Yours Wants Looking At, Simon Smalley brought the story of his childhood and St. Ann’s to life, effortlessly capturing the reality of the working-class community amid the relentless sixties need for modernity. His highly anticipated second book, Chucking Putty at the Queen, is ready for release on 1 November, and rejoins Simon at a pivotal point in his young life as he gets to grips with the idea of recovery both from the loss of his St. Ann’s home and the death of his mother.
“It was quite a sentimental journey and very poignant in lots of ways. I’ve not lived there in 25 years, but the old St. Ann’s that I lived in has all been demolished. A lot of street names have been adapted for modern walks and closes as the network of streets is no longer there,” he explained. “It’s all in my head and in old photographs. People didn’t realise how close-knit the community was or how many shops there were so you didn’t need to leave to buy food.”
“Everything was on the corner like grocers, butchers or newspaper shops. There was a pub on every corner it seemed and lots of factories,” Simon explains. “The infrastructure of everything you needed for everyday existence was there.”
Peter Parker, a fellow historical writer and author of Some Men in London, recently referred to the 1960s as ‘the edge of history.’ This makes accounts of places like this all the more valuable. Although there are plenty of studies on the clearance of working-class areas, it is accounts like Simon’s that help bring colour to black and white photographs.
“It was very comforting,” he recalled. “I was able to close my eyes and I was back there. In one chapter, I was coming home from my junior school to the new house in St. Ann’s. I had to go past where my old house was but it wasn’t there anymore. It was a yearning to go back to when life was happier before my mum’s death.”
It was a sense of liberation, of arrival and emancipation from absolutely everything else that seemed so humdrum
“It was my psychological disarray that drew me back to where those streets were as that sense of community seemed to have gone. It was that tremendous sense of loss, knowing it's gone and not being able to override that need to go back to how it was with familiar faces, kids playing football or the telephone wires that had shoes hanging from them. Little things like that were tokens of how vibrant it used to be.”
One of the great parts of both books is Simon’s ever-present love of music. A love of the rebellious nature of artists such as Sid Vicious and Marc Bolan of T-Rex. Make sure to open your Spotify account as you read in order to really complete the experience.
“I remembered reading in the music press about the early rumblings of punk and I was fascinated by it. On ATV Today in 1976, they featured local punks from Birmingham who were in the early DIY gear, chewing gum and wrap round shades with ripped trousers. It fascinated me. The idea of being yourself and doing something different was really important to me.”
“I identified with this rebellious thing of knowing that by being gay, you are an outsider in society anyway. So this whole movement seemed so opposite from what the accepted norm was. It felt like a place where you would be welcomed, accepted and not condemned for what or who you are.”
Throughout both books, it's very easy to identify with and root for Simon’s happiness. It’s this that has won the first book much praise. In the second book, we join Simon as he takes his first steps into Nottingham’s early gay scene. We hold our breath with nerves as he explores the Hearty Goodfellow on Maid Marian Way and wish him well as he walks into the hedonistic world of La Chic Part Two on Canal Street.
“I had been waiting for this all my life. That’s what it was for me. That first night down in the Hearty Goodfellow and then down at Part Two, I had never experienced anything like that. To see this place was just fabulous. It was a sense of liberation, of arrival and emancipation from absolutely everything else that seemed so humdrum,” he remembered. “It felt like I had arrived and fitted in. I embraced it totally. It felt like a drug that I couldn’t get enough of.”
The stories of La Chic Part Two are something of gay legend in this city. From footballer Justin Fashanu’s appearances on the cruising section to the drag queen Divine’s performances from a toilet seat throne to naked mud wrestling, you had to have been there. For many of us who were not, the envy is palpable - especially now in a quieter scene of closing queer pubs.
As well as the closing of queer pubs is the closing of queer alternative press. In the spirit of rebellion, as the mainstream newspapers ignored the growing queer scene, activists such as Chris Richardson and Richard McCance recognised the need for more voices, especially in the era of HIV/AIDS for information. They started their own newspapers, Metrogay, Gay Nottingham and Outright. Simon joined Outright in the 1990s.
“I appreciate other people telling me what an important lifeline that was to people in the East Midlands. We would have one or two copies stocked by daring librarians or community centres where there were reports of them being ripped up or complaints about ‘that filth.’ You know you are doing something right when you get that reaction.”
“We covered things about legalities or what to do if you were arrested and what your rights were. The main thing was that it was free, accessible to everyone and paid for by the advertising we did. We had free personal ads which were people’s ways of connecting,” Simon added. “The fact that it was ‘do it yourself’ and independent was vastly important to me because it tapped into the punk, fanzine ethos and the counterculture press of the hippie and radical underground 1960s press. Looking back, we had a profound positive effect on the people who were able to get copies."
You can buy a copy of Simon Smalley’s first memoir, ‘That Boy of Yours Wants Looking At’ from bookshops including Five Leaves and online from Amazon. His second book, ‘Chucking Putty at the Queen’ was launched on November 1 at Five Leaves Bookshop will be available online and through Amazon.
Correction: in the print version of this article we refer to Simon's books That Boy of Yours Wants Looking At and Chucking Putty at the Queen as novels, when both are in fact memoirs.
We have a favour to ask
LeftLion is Nottingham’s meeting point for information about what’s going on in our city, from the established organisations to the grassroots. We want to keep what we do free to all to access, but increasingly we are relying on revenue from our readers to continue. Can you spare a few quid each month to support us?
