It was an unremarkable dreich October day, autumn
leaves everywhere and a dampness in the air. The city was still in mourning
from the Ibrox disaster which had occurred on the 2nd of January, during an Old
Firm. The collapse of stairway 13 killed sixty-six people and injured over two
hundred. My dad knew many of the injured. The south side of Glasgow, where I
was born, is really a collection of many small towns. And in those days,
everybody still worked in the shipyards. There was a sense that everybody knew
everybody.
To give you an idea, there’s 1.1 miles between Govan Shipyard
(as it was called then) and Ibrox stadium. There’s 6.3 miles from Ibrox Stadium
to Clarkston Toll.
The Clarkston toll explosion is just on the verge of
my living memory. I can recall everybody talking about it. We didn’t have a
phone in those days – we didn’t have a phone in the house until 1976 or
thereabouts! And I know my dad went out to our neighbours who was about 90 and
her son had paid for her to have a phone in the house. I’m sure my dad was
going out to check on my auntie Ella, who lived in Clarkston at the time, and
did her shopping at the toll. As women did in those days, they’d go out to the shops
every day, with their message bags and have a good natter with whomsoever
they’d bump into.
Auntie Ella was okay. She had already gone out and
come back by the time of the explosion. What I don’t understand is that Ella
didn’t have a phone either, but there’s nobody left of that generation that I
can ask. I image anybody who had a phone had a lot of visitors that might.
The explosion was caused when a 4-inch gas main laid
six years earlier had ruptured. That allowed the gas to accumulate in void
space underneath the row of shops. The void was totally unventilated, so the
pressure continued to build. There had been complaints from shop staff and
customers about a strong smell of gas, and that the smell was getting
stronger. Engineers from Scottish Gas
had come out and tried to isolate and identify a leak but couldn’t.
The leak went remained undetected until it ignited
with the force equivalent to 500 pounds of TNT.
Shops were blown to bits, vehicles that had been left on the roof top
carpark were rocketed into the air to land back onto the wreckage of the shops
below. The sound was heard ten miles away. So, from where I am I typing this,
I’d have heard it and looked out the window. The dog, no doubt would have woken
up.
20 women and 2 men were killed, over a 100 were
injured. It happened at 2.52pm so the shopping centre was busy, just normal
folk going about their normal business. Engineers from the gas board were still
in attendance, still trying to isolate the source of the smell.
The public inquiry lasted for 19 days, ending in
February 1972. It revealed that gas had built up in a hidden space beneath the
shops in an area unknown to the Scottish Gas Board. Lots of criticism was
levelled at many organisations, including Renfrew County Council as it was
then, but no individual or organization has ever been held legally responsible.
What has come
out in the 50-year memorials has been the kindness and sacrifice shown by the
local community. People involved, even tentatively, are talking on social media
and sharing stories.
On the afternoon of the disaster the emergency
services, aided by volunteers, worked through the night to rescue survivors
trapped in the rubble. Many were pulled out hours later, thanks to the efforts
of both professional rescue response and local residents.
The emergency services were stretched to their limit. Twenty-two ambulances were dispatched to the area. Medical staff were weeping at the sight of the injuries that were arriving in the hospital from the incident.
Local busses helped the first responders, getting
people out the area and ferrying them to the nearby Redhurst Hotel (where
Alan’s brother was to be married 15 years later) which was being used as a
temporary hospital.
And the tales of the day, the cops who had to man
switchboards into the early hours, the wait to hear who had lost their lives. No
police, ambulance or rescue responder went home at the end of their shift that
night. The next shift came in early. People getting onto buses and going into
the city centre to try to get some news.
So different to nowadays
Scrolling through the messages, there was an
interesting one from a local dentist who used his practice fridges to store
unattached fingers until the ambulances became available to transport them to
hospital.
One witness was on a bus on the street, just missing
the epicentre of the explosion. She remembered the bang, the double decker
rocking, and the smoke clearing to reveal devastation. And the noise of crying
and screaming, everybody got off the bus to help.
One reader said that she swapped her day at the
hairdresser, and the girl who took her place survived. Another sixteen-year-old
was sent to another branch to work that day, her replacement was caught up in the
explosion but survived with minor injuries after being knocked unconscious.
Casual chats at a bus stops, the forecast for the rain
to get heavier stopped some women from going out. One bus was running late or
would have been in the epicentre.
Because most of those killed had been women out doing
the shopping, as opposed to working men, there was minimal compensation paid
out. The majority of victims at Clarkston Toll that day had been female
shoppers, as opposed to working men.
The toll was the heartbeat of that community, and the
response was one of courage and compassion. The small town of Clarkston was left grieving.
The aftermath of the explosion (Image: Courtesy of East Renfrewshire Council)
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