FAMILY

My father was a great reader. He read everything, The Golden Bough, Shaw, Shakespeare. He had a tremendous knowledge of many things. We would go to the Chapel on Sunday evening and on the way back he would point out the stars to me.But he wasn't creative. He never would have written a book say. My mother and I often wondered why he didn't. He was a genuine scholar.
His great love was History, with a specialism in the history of North Wales. We went to places and he would point things out. He would read Dickens and O'Henry out loud to me, all the W.W.Jacobs books. Being a preacher, he read well. I got my boys to read and Richard studied Literature at Dublin and Paul likes reading.

He came from a Methodist background. My great uncle John became a minister at Ashby-de-la-Zouche. My great grandfather was a farmer and a lay preacher. An eccentric man. Very outspoken - specialised in very old fashioned preaching. My grandfather, his son, was also a preacher and a farmer. My father was brought up against that background. He had a good grammar school education and wanted to join the ministry. He took the examinations but wasn't allowed in because he had a weak heart.He wanted to do it as much as I wanted to make posters. He did a bit of farming but lacked enthusiasm. He was a lay preacher and Chief Superintendent of the Sunday School locally. Without that passion, things can fall apart, like they seem to be doing today, with all the violence.

My father knew every secondhand bookshop in Manchester. All his books were second hand. He knew exactly what he wanted.

Mary had the same sort of upbringing, but in Cornwall. She went to a very good school. She wanted to go to Art School and went to Clapham first I think. She won a scholarship to the Central and her father died in his forties leaving her mother and sister. But she left home and changed very much on her own, like I did. Her work meant everything to her. She was uncompromising.

Did they see your posters?

Very few, because most of the work was seen in London. They were proud when I got my OBE after the War.

Was that a surprise?

Oh yes I had no idea. For services to the Poster I remember.

My elder brother was different to me in every way. He was very good at sport and not interested in art at all. I never remember him asking me about art even when I was famous. I liked sport but was no good at it. I used to go to Rugby League with my father when I was young.

My mother was an independent Methodist. She worked as a girl in the Mill at Leigh. Her maiden name was Hilton. Her mother had come from a good family but they lost all their money and her father died. Her mother took in weaving. My grandfather Hilton worked in Boat building but then became a signalman. He was a lovely man who loved Music. My mother came from this background, She was very sympathetic, content with home and children.

What sort of landscape was around your childhood home?

Newton-Le-Willows was very countrified. You had to walk everywhere because there wasn't a Bus Service until I was nine. You had to walk to the head of the road to get a tram.You had to walk to Newton Station to get a train. There weren't many cars, just the occasional Tin Tizzies.

I went back about fifteen years ago. I went to look where the farm was. The meadow in front of the farm. It had all gone.All estates. Not a thing left. It is a mistake going back.

Tell me about your family life and holidays.

We would go to Llandudno every year. It fell into a sort of routine. The Sabbath was the Sabbath, We would go for walks around the Great Orme. Then we'd go to the Methodist Church, and there was a Band in the evening. There was The Happy Valley, the Minstrels. The Punch and Judy Man. There was a lake where boys like me sailed their yachts.

Were you good at art at school?

Didn't get much of an opportunity. I was always reading. I liked reading but at the time I hated everything to do with mathematics. My mind went blank when I had a question like, "There's this man who walks three miles at two mph...." My parents wanted me to go to the Grammar School at Leigh, or Manchester Grammar. Dad went to try and persuade the Principal at Manchester to take me in. It was the time of the Depression. For a while I went to a Commercial College in Bolton. My parents thought there were very few jobs around, and thought about me getting an office job. Then my Mother saw something about art schools in the newspaper.