"OMO ADDS BRIGHTNESS"
By Stan Letts
So ran the advertising slogan for a popular brand of washing powder. "OMO" was also the acronym for One Man Operation (before the PC Brigade altered it to "OPO").
Conversion of routes to OMO went apace in the late 'Sixties, and I thought it was high time that I had a go at it. There were more and more things like Fleetlines entering service, and the Midland Red was also buying lots of single-deckers. When operated as double-crew conductors were wont to come and lean with their backs against the windscreen and chat (often about football which bored me anyway). So I thought that OMO would not only allow me to enjoy my driving, but I would also retrieve that (in modern jargon) "interface with the customer" which I had lost as a driver.
WOLVES TO THE RESCUE
The Bearwood Garage TGWU Chairman, although an amiable chap, nevertheless refused to allow me to do OMO "until I had been properly trained". This was a sticking point as there were no opportunities for me to receive this formal training.
Wolverhampton Garage was one of those within my “parish”, and on the odd occasions I had done a bit of Saturday driving there. My first stint was on the pleasantly semi-rural 882 to Stourbridge (now, in TWM days, it is numbered 256 and visits the village of Wombourne which, in my day, was by-passed by the Midland Red). Then there was the fearsomely complicated 268 which was run jointly with WMPTE’s West Bromwich unit, winding round all sorts of housing estates, through Princes End, Great Bridge, West Bromwich and Stone Cross to end up almost on the Walsall border at Yew Tree Estate. What might be little known is that there was a Saturday morning short-working from Great Bridge, and one could actually see a Midland Red bus showing service “2”. One Friday the Wolverhampton Superintendent called me up. "Can you help us out with a driving turn tomorrow?" he asked. Fortunately I was free so I said that I could.
"It's an OMO turn," he went on. I had to reply that I had never done OMO, so I couldn't oblige, after all. "Oh, don't let that worry you! You're a driver, you've done a lot of conducting. You've only got to put the two together. Go on - you can do it!"
He was right, the only thing that was new to me was how to attach the Setright to the power pack. That accomplished, the three round trips on the 876 to Stafford were quite without incident. So, OMO at last.
Some time later, I volunteered for a bit of OMO driving at Bearwood. My TGWU friend immediately looked askance at me.
"Oh, yes, I'm qualified now," I replied, "I've done OMO for Wolverhampton Garage". He looked relieved, "Oh, that's all right, then. You'll be much more use to us now." (I didn’t let on that I had done only one turn!).
1971 - AN EVENTFUL YEAR
Monday 15 February 1971 was a day in the country’s history not to be forgotten (do you remember it?) The upheaval caught up with the bus operators on the following Sunday, a day on which I was brave (or foolhardy) enough to volunteer for a full OMO driving duty. The fares had all changed on that Sunday, so one had to put the passengers right on the new fares as they paid up.
Why should this be different from any other fares-increase day? It was the first day that bus fares were expressed in the new Decimal Currency. The six-day delay in adopting decimal fares had been granted to bus operators to allow the new coins to get circulated. Yet there were still lots of the heavy old pennies (240 to the Pound) that we had to accept, and they all had to be counted up separately at the end of the shift. Old pennies had to be tendered in multiples of six (for which there was an exact equivalent in new pence). Also, if I recall correctly, we were forbidden to give old currency in change. The comfort was in knowing that their next transaction would be in the melting-down kilns at the Mint.
TO THE BLACK COUNTRY’S HEART
My move later in 1971 to Dudley Garage, (which I shall recount in a future riveting episode) meant that I was grabbed for work there most weekends, and it became rare for me to "go out into the country" from Bearwood Garage. Although back to mainly crew-operation, after a while I found that I didn't mind at all - the camaraderie at Dudley was every bit as warm as at Bearwood, and I really started to enjoy myself in the Black Country.
An office colleague was Alan Broughall, known to many bus enthusiasts through his photography (sadly a tragic road accident in which Alan suffered massive brain injury took him virtually out of our lives). He was a very quiet lad (people had to switch ON their hearing aids when Alan shouted!) but he enjoyed doing part-time conducting. And so the folk at Dudley would often pair us up with a Saturday shift.
One such was a delight. It was a "middle turn" consisting of a round trip on the 865 through Wednesbury, Walsall and Cannock to Stafford, followed by a "short" on the 265 as far as Walsall only. It had a problem, however. WMPTE, our joint operators on the route, had inherited from Walsall Corporation some peculiar running time allowances over "their" section of route.
DON'T LET THE GOVERNOR KNOW
We were alright as far as Walsall. Then, despite drifting slowly up through Leamore (by now the trolleybuses had gone) one was always early at Bloxwich, so had to hang up for time. Then it was a mad dash to Cannock, made worse by a diversion round Great Wyrley. Inevitably one would arrive late in Cannock, and by the time we had deposited one full load and taken up another, we were some twelve minutes late leaving. The D9's big engine made light work of the steady climb as we dropped most of our load through Huntington. Then we were on the open road as the main A34 traversed Cannock Chase. The pedal was truly down to the metal over this stretch, and we made it to Stafford almost on time.
As we unloaded at the Station, Alan ambled to the front of the bus, to climb up to set the blind for the return journey. "Everything OK?” I asked him. He nodded, then murmured something to the effect that it was the first time he had ever experienced a D9's engine "on the governors". I knew I had been shifting!
BROUGHALL BUT NO BRAWL
Bob Mills has already entertained readers with his accounts concerning the Priory Estate in Dudley. After pub turning-out time on a Saturday night it could be, shall we say, “interesting”.
The bus that bore the brunt of this revelry was the 10.37 281 to Wolverhampton - a roundabout route which took in the Priory Estate, Roseville and Woodcross. Most Monday mornings we would be regaled with the near-rioting which took place on this journey, which got so bad that the Company had arranged with the Police for it to be regularly accompanied by a Panda car.
Alan and I reported to Dudley Bus Station to take over our late-night duty. On studying our running card I nudged Alan. "Here, look what we've got," I said, "the 10.37 281!” We had a D12 Fleetline for our bus this night, and the evening passed quietly (until half-past ten, that is).
We loaded up in the Bus Station. Our passengers were by no means quiet, but didn't seem at all threatening. As we progressed, Alan quietly passed round the bus collecting fares. As he returned to the front of the bus I asked him if he was alright. He simply nodded, meanwhile the passengers' singing was getting more and more raucous - they were clearly very mellow indeed. We arrived at the main stop in Priory Estate to the sound of many boots crashing down the stairs and with many a cheery "G'nigh' driver!" the revellers staggered off the bus and reeled happily home. We gave a thumbs-up sign to the officers in the police car, they drove off and we finished our shift peacefully.
So what was all the trouble about? We discussed it with the management on the Monday morning, saying that the "infamous" Priory crowd seemed to be simply a bit merry, and they had been no trouble. It turned out that the usual "guard" on that duty was a rather officious elderly dragon of a conductress. Instead of turning a deaf ear to the raucous singing she would try to stop it, threatening removal of offenders from the bus. It was this that caused the near rioting, and it is significant that since Alan, the "Quiet One", had experienced no trouble from the boisterous crowd, the conductress concerned was put onto another roster and the problem just went away.
NBC TO PTE
Two years went by uneventfully, working at my desk from Monday to Friday, and doing the odd Saturday driving shift, often with Alan Broughall as my “mate”. Then came the big upheaval of December 1973 when, figuratively speaking, I had to put a different badge on my hat.
No more trips in the country to Ludlow and the like - even the locals round Smethwick had been dispersed on the closure of Bearwood Garage. I was now firmly embedded in the Black Country working solely from Dudley Garage.
Nevertheless, the change of ownership brought some oddities worth relating, not least a rather bizarre incident on the actual night of the changeover - we’ll save those for next time.
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