Lives in Cricket No 3 - George Duckworth

them at Old Trafford. When he first went to Australia, they made a presentation to him, and when, along with many others from the depressed north-west, a few of them emigrated to Australia, he met up with them there. In post-war days of austerity, they remembered him with presents of choice foodstuffs. On the other hand, and, as his relatives insist, rather out of keeping with the family conventions, he was a freemason. At the time of his death, he was a Past Provincial Grand Deacon of the West Lancashire Province and a Past Master of the Travellers’ Lodge, Warrington. It is thought that it was the charitable aspect of the freemasonry that attracted him, and one may easily guess what a godsend he must have been regarded as by his fellow masons, when charity events had to be arranged. He was a member of the Warrington Conservative Club, although his family explain that he was an unlikely political animal, with lots of Labour supporters amongst his mates. It is true there was a long tradition in the north of England of joining Conservative clubs because they had the best snooker table, rather then the most appealing ideology. Back to Peter Tinniswood’s Uncle Mort: ‘Bloody hell, man’, I says, ‘I’m not a bloody Tory, but I’ve drunk in the Conservative club all me bloody life, haven’t I?’ One is reminded of the scene in the 1958 filmed version of John Braine’s impactful novel, Room at the Top . Laurence Harvey, as Joe Lampton, the working class anti-hero, meets his prospective and prosperous new-moneyed father-in-law to-be, played by Donald Wolfit, in the Conservative club of a northern town. Joe Lampton comments, ‘If my father could see me in here, he would turn in his grave.’ ‘So would mine, lad,’ pronounced the wealthy businessman and Tory councillor, ‘so would mine.’ Sometimes the ends met in the middle. George Duckworth, like many sports personalities, had affinities with theatrical and radio stars, such as Robb Wilton and Tommy Trinder. During the early 1950s, when rationing was still in force, two of his Warrington pals were journeying to London. He asked them to take a gift of two dozen fresh eggs from the Moore farm to give as a present to Jack Hylton, the famous bandleader and impresario, but also, critically, a son of Great Lever, Bolton. In return, they were treated to a marvellous London show, a superb dinner and, on top of that, a taxi ride home. Said one, ‘those must have been the most expensive eggs Jack Hylton ever bought.’ The Legacy 60