FRANCES LEADER IS MY BIRTH NAME

I know that people don't believe me, but I am not Macron! Nor would I want to be! I am just a London girl who grew up to become a lover of life.

Recently several people have assumed that my name is fake and that I have some sort of megalomaniacal fantasy about being a leader. I really don’t. I just happen to be born into the Leader family; there are many of us and we are mostly jolly nice London people!

I am a Taoist thinker which is an ancient philosophy at the foundation of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). I am a retired Barefoot Doctor of TCM.

Leadership is a very interesting subject and I have taken a strong liking to Lao Tzu and his many enlightening comments on leadership.
"The superior leader gets things done with very little motion. He imparts instruction not through many words but through a few deeds. He keeps informed about everything but interferes hardly at all. He is a catalyst, and though things would not get done well if he weren't there, when they succeed he takes no credit. And because he takes no credit, credit never leaves him."
Lao Tzu, from the Tao Te Ching
and:
"To lead people, walk beside them ... As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people honour and praise. The next, the people fear; and the next, the people hate ... When the best leader's work is done the people say, 'We did it ourselves!" also from the Tao Te Ching.
It is a book I could not bear to be without, it keeps me grounded.
http://www.with.org/tao_te_ching_en.pdf

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So that is the kind of leader I admire. Very hard to achieve, don’t you think?

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When I was a small child my friends called me Leader the Bleeder or Frank or Froggy because I had quite a husky voice due to London pea-soupers giving me endless sore throats.

When I got to Grammar School the girls in my class thought it was hilarious to hear my cockney accent and they called me Guttersnipe until one of the teachers overheard them and pointed out loudly “Frances got to this school by her brains, YOU got here on Daddy’s money!” This gave me a bit of a boost and the next girl who tried to belittle me found the contents of her satchel flying out of the first floor window and her work books fluttering all over the school grounds!
The Head Mistress was informed and she resolved the problem by arranging for elocution therapy which lasted throughout my first year at that school. The effect was to make me into a dual being. I was dreadfully polite and posh at school but my normal, swearing, mis-pronouncing self when mixing with my street friends. I would literally adopt an act as soon as I put on the dark green uniform and I kept that act up until I left school at 18. I was voted Form Leader every year because my classmates thought it was very funny that I should have to wear a badge with my name on it. This name of mine has caused much amusement, I can tell you!

Image: Frances Beardsley School for Girls Quadrant in 1968

My father had purchased a lovely bungalow in Jaywick Sands for the family to use for holidays and when I left school I persuaded him to let me go and live there on my own. I was blissfully happy for 3 weeks and then my younger brother, Roy, arrived saying that he wanted to live with me and leave school too. My father had insisted that we support ourselves by getting jobs and so I got a job as a receptionist at a local estate agency. My brother went to work on Clacton Pier as a ride attendant.

Image: The seafront at Jaywick Sands, Essex.

We had a good friend, Sid who lived close by and he always called me Frarnie. He had looked after me since I was 5 years old, when I was only allowed out to play provided that Sid was watching over me. Sid was 4 years older than me. He taught me to ride donkeys, skate, ride a bike and supervised me when we were swimming in the sea. He was wonderful.

When Sid was 18 he took up riding motor bikes and wearing leather jackets. He had a lot of biker friends and soon they became known as the Filthy Few, a Hells Angel Chapter.

Sid was working as a dustman. That is, he worked for the local council clearing household rubbish into a huge lorry very early in the mornings. He would call into the Estate Agency where I worked to share lunch with me sometimes. He was like a big brother to me and I loved him dearly. He took me out on his motor bike sometimes too.

One very rough and windy October night Roy and I were walking home from the local discotheque along the dark sea front. A voice shouted at us from the beach below the promenade “Oi, got a light?” the voice said and my brother went over to offer his lighter. There were six young guys huddled against the sea wall.

I said “Hello, you can’t stay there, the tide comes in right up to this wall and the police patrol all along the promenade every few hours!” These guys all stood up and they asked us where they could go. They were homeless.
I was shocked. They looked very unkempt and had no baggage.
”You will have to come home with us!” I stated without a moment’s thought. My brother nearly choked with shock and stood there aghast as these six guys jumped up alongside us. It never occurred to me to think I could have been in danger. I knew Sid was just around the corner if I needed him.

These worn out guys were from Glasgow and they had been staying in London but had upset some East End gangsters. They had been chased out of the city in fear of their lives. I did ask them what they had done to upset the gangsters but they were unwilling to tell me. I did find out later, but that is another story…..
Their version of my name was Frannie.

When we got to our lovely bungalow and into the light of the living room I could see how dirty and unshaven they were. They had been living rough for quite a while I think.
I offered them baths and food. So I spent the whole night cooking eggs and chips, loading clothes into the washing machine, while they took turns having hot baths and using my brothers razors. What a difference that made! They were very grateful and we had a really good laugh because Roy and I could barely understand their lingo!

In the morning I ran to the phone box at the corner of the street and phoned my Grandmother. I asked if I could have the keys to her Jaywick bungalow which was in the next street. I explained about the six guys. My Uncle arrived with the keys and let them in. My Grandmother’s bungalow was fully furnished with bed linen and all the kitchen equipment for holiday makers to use. Of course it was not being used in October and would be available for them for a small rent until the following summer.

On Sunday morning my brother, Roy took them to work with him on Clacton Pier and four of them (Alan, Jai, Chas and Little Tony) got jobs working on the rides and arcades. They were absolutely thrilled.

Images: Clacton Pier showing the old Steel Stella ride and the Helter Skelter

Big Tony went looking for work in Clacton and became a bingo caller at an amusement arcade. Pete, his brother, called into Jaywick Motor Garage and got an immediate start as a mechanic. He was qualified and the boss was desperate for help.

Everyone was completely sorted by Monday! Amazing luck, huh?
It was 1969 and we did not know how lucky we were. Jobs were so easy to find then.

Sid, the dustman, heard all about this and came to visit me. I took him to meet the newcomers and he immediately helped them to get acquainted with his Filthy Few. The bonds they developed then are still strong to this day……

Sid is a real leader of men. You have never met a more polite person than Sid. Yet he has an air of strong leadership oozing from his every pore, even then, when he was only 22 years old. Sid had to approve my new friends, of course, and he did.

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I phoned Sid last week. He is now nearly 75 and had just got home from a 10 day run to Sweden on his Harley Davidson. He is still the leader of men. Still loving, caring and living the best life. He has been married for 20 years to a lovely woman called Sarah who is in her 40s. She looks after him and makes him take good care of his health. He wasn’t always careful about that when he was young, but who was?

Of course there are a thousand stories I could tell you about my life and my friends but that will do for this Sunday’s run down memory lane.

Next week I will tell you more about the Jocks and the Filthy Few - the scrapes, the fights, the festivals, the women they attracted and the way that the Police were always out smarted!

Keep remembering, keep smiling, life is too short to be sad.

Much love as always,

Fran

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