Bluesphinx

  It was whilst delivering newspapers one bright sunny morning that I stumbled upon an unfolding drama that sowed the seed that would eventually shape my life.

 I was aged about fourteen, which brings the date to sometime during the spring of 1972. I had got about half way through my morning paper round, and was happily depositing the daily news through the letterboxes of the residents of Swansea Road when something in the corner of my eye made me look up over the roofs of the houses in the adjacent streets.

 From where I stood I could see looming in the distance over the myriad grey slated roofs of the residential streets the huge curved, black bitumened roof of the local cinema, the Palace-one of only two that survived out of ten or more that originally graced our little town. Affectionately nicknamed the ‘Vince’, it was a place dear to the hearts of many of the residents of Llanelli, including me. It was a place where after illicit entry via a side exit which led us to the inky darkness of its back row, amid the thick cigarette smoke illuminated by the bright beam of the projector, that my friend John Lewis and I enjoyed our first adult, or ‘X’ film-Carry on Screaming. We managed to see most of the film before being ignominiously evicted out into daylight by a stern looking member of staff whose job was worth less than to turn a blind eye to our unpaid for and under-age presence.

 What caught my eye that morning was wafting heavenward. Was that steam, transformed from dew and driven by the warming early morning rays of the Sun that was drifting up from the roof? There certainly seemed to be a lot of it, and as I watched it seemed to get thicker. I narrowed my eyes to focus, and suddenly the grey vapour erupted into huge dancing and licking sheets of yellow flame. I gasped in astonishment at the sight.

 Immediately forgetting my remaining deliveries I raced across the road to the ‘phone box and dialled 999. The operator put me straight through to fire Brigade Control, who thanked me and then informed me in calm and professional tones that they had already received several calls to this incident and were already on their way. Before I had replaced the receiver and stepped out of the box, I could hear the shrill song of the town siren which sounded like a world war two air raid warning. In the days before pagers and alerters this was what always called to duty the part time fire personnel, who would drop whatever they were doing and rush to the fire station in answer to that call.

 I ran towards the ‘Vince’ as fast as my youthfull little legs could carry me, arriving in Market Street just as the first fire engine shuddered to a halt outside the heavy glass and mahogany doors of the Palace Cinema. The smoke hung in the air like a dense, pungent fog, and the loud crackling and popping of the flames caused several of the gathered onlookers to put their hands to their ears. A detatchment of police constables began moving the crowd back to the relative safety of the other side of the road. The sound of approaching bells signalled the imminent arrival of the second fire engine. The first crew had jumped off their engine, and two large, brave, black helmeted men wearing breathing apparatus, and carrying hose reels approached the entrance squirting water in short hisses as they marched purposefully to the locked doors. They signalled to a colleague who was already reading their minds as he followed behind bearing a large sledge hammer. The fist two stood back as he swung the heavy tool with all his might,and with a loud crash he broke the door’s glass which crashed in giant shards to the floor. I watched in awe as the firemen worked, and indifferent to fate’s plan, I promised myself, “One day I’m gonna do that!”

  The second appliance had by now thundered up and amid lots of shouted commands four burly firefighters were busy manouvering the huge fifteen metre ladder off the top of their machine. More orders were shouted to get it crashing up with millitary precision against the wall of the building. A third fire engine arrived at the scene, and men started scurrying around connecting lenghts of the thick canvass hose to a fire hydrant, and in a few seconds it took on a writhing, snaking life of its own as it inflated with a swishing slapping sound as the water was forced through it. Another B.A. team, dragged the heavy, fully charged 70mm. hose into the lobby of the cinema, while a firefighter started carrying yet another hose up the ladder. These actions took place simultaneously, and in response to barked orders from the white helmeted officer in charge. The men worked with well practiced efficency, like cogs in a well oiled machine.

 The pump operator at the back of the appliance pulled a lever, and the engine roared with increased revs, then with a hiss and a whoosh hundreds of gallons of water came shooting and spitting out of the hose, as it did so the firefighter on the ladder had to visibly brace himself to prevent being knocked off the ladder by the jet reaction. As the acrid fog thickened and mixed with clouds of hot steam and floating embers, things settled down into a more rythmic pace. Then suddenly a further flurry of frantic activity as whistles were frantically blown and the officer in charge started animatedly calling the teams out. Seconds later three men emerged, and I could hear a loud rumble. The sound grew louder then developed into a deafening crash, and I swear that the ground shook beneath my feet! The fourth B.A. wearer burst forth, blown out by huge billowing clouds of black smoke and hot gasses. He nearly tripped over as he was ejaculated from the building. ”The roof’s gone!” I heard someone yell, I think it was a fireman, but I could hardly see him through the smoke.

  I waited, craning my neck among the crowd for about half an hour, during which time my mother arrived and joined me, (we lived in the next street), and eventually she reminded me that it was time I got myself off to school-it was already nine fifteen, and school started at nine o’clock. Reluctantly I obeyed her command.

 The memory of that morning’s events stayed vividly with me for weeks afterwards. The drama, the excitement, and the sight of those immensly brave men set my heart in deep admiration. I was inspired by them and just wished that I could be one of them.

 As for the Vince, I am sorry to say that it was a complete write off-totally gutted, and It remained cordoned off for over a year untill eventually, after the inevitable enquiry, and after all the insurances had been paid out, the bulldozers finally moved in and converted it into a car park. It was a sad goodbye to a much loved rendezvous and landmark of the town.