Colourful stories of the black cabs
Published Date: 31 August 2010
Douglas Findlay just needs a bow tie and the transformation would be complete.
"Oh yes, I was the best-dressed cabbie in Edinburgh," he laughs as he slides comfortably behind the wheel of a large black people carrier. "My, how things have changed. You know my cab didn't even have a door on the passenger side, that's where the luggage went. There were no traffic wardens, no yellow lines, and the people I had in the back, well I could tell some stories..."
And he has. Findlay, who looks the epitome of what he is - a retired salesman - has just had his memoirs of life as a cabbie in Edinburgh in the early 1950s published.
Entitled Never a Dull Day, it tells many colourful stories about even more colourful characters who used his services, be it to escape MI5's watchful eyes or to be ferried to Danube Street for a night at Dora Noyce's house of ill-repute.
It also conjures up a more naive time, when you could drive along Princes Street unhampered by one-way systems and bus lanes, when Golden Wonder crisps were the latest delicacy in pubs and when Big Tam was still best known as a bouncer at the Palais rather than a Hollywood movie star called Sean.
Now 77, Douglas was just 20 when he first sat in a cab. He had returned from Egypt where he had been stationed with the Royal Air Force for three years, and the reality of demob life finally hit when his tanned face felt the freezing rain as he ascended the Waverley Steps.
"I had to get the tramcar up to Marchmont where my mother lived, and because I was still in my uniform the driver waived the fare. Edinburgh still looked the same as it had when I'd left, but even though I'd be in the air force I think I was still a bit naive," he laughs. "Driving a taxi soon opened my eyes.
"I was working during the day, trying to get into sales, but I wanted more money so when I heard about a taxi firm in Leith which was looking for drivers I signed up. It was a fantastic job, even if the cars were probably death traps and were likely uninsured. There was also only one road tax disc for the whole fleet. But things were much freer then and basically if someone needed to go beyond the dock gates, then we just broke the law."
The private hire firm - which he calls Jock's in the book, though many names have been changed - was stationed near the docks and taxis were needed 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
There was no shortage of work, particularly when the American ships sailed in.
"I was surprised to discover that Leith had such a large number of girls of easy virtue," he laughs. "Most of them were to be found around the top of Leith Walk. I didn't "carry the stick", which meant I wouldn't find a loose woman for a fare, but I would drop him at the Deep Sea chippy, pictured right, and let him take his chances.
"I had plenty of prostitutes in the cab though. One girl I used to drive around told me about a Festival artist who was later on That Was the Week That Was, and he asked her to chase him round the room naked and thrash him with a wet fish. She was delighted though because she said the fish was always fresh and made a great supper after.
"Driving the taxi was a bit of a shock to the system. I was definitely as innocent as I was long, I even used to let people off with paying their fares."
The former Boroughmuir pupil also had the regional commander of the Scottish Republican Army in the back of the cab one evening, or at least someone who thought he was. "He was obviously delusional, but I thought if he wanted me to drive him around to dodge Special Branch then I would at least make a bit of money. It didn't work out like that though - he didn't have any money and his wife was furious with him and all I got for my trouble was £2. Still it was an interesting evening."
Bonhomie radiates from Douglas, and it's easy to picture him as a young man in a cab, entertaining those in the back with stories of his time in Africa or the latest strange fare he'd picked up. He worked for Jock's for a year before passing the "knowledge" and buying his own FX3 black cab.
"I had my name down for a taxi plate but everyone told me I had no chance of getting one. Then the council announced it was issuing 25 more plates because there weren't enough cabs on the road, and so I got one for nothing, rather than having to pay. Now they're worth an absolute fortune.
"Back then people sort of just fell into taxi driving, now it's a very respectable job. But working 12 to 14 hours a day with the constant risk of assault is not everyone's cup of tea."
Certainly Findlay had run-ins with the criminal fraternity, in particular a pirate cab operator christened Pedro, who liked to wear zoot suits, two-tone shoes and a Panama hat. Even his cab had white wall tyres. Findlay ended up running up against him after unwittingly delivering him a beating by a female passenger who was convinced Pedro had "grassed" her husband to the police after a break-in at Blyth's Stores in Tollcross.
Pedro then sought revenge. He sent a gang of heavies to beat up Findlay with iron bars, but they got the wrong driver. Findlay was scared. "I went to see the older brother of the chap who was in prison. He was a real heavy. He told me not to worry about it, that he would get a message to Pedro. I've no idea what happened, but I was never bothered again.
There were some real scary moments."
His book is also a coming-of-age memoir. "I was never very successful with girls, but driving the taxi meant that I ended up at a lot of parties. There was one girl, a dental student, who lured me to bed during a party, but then... nothing. It was all very odd. But we were so well behaved then. We were frightened to death of catching social diseases and I was too shy to carry condoms,"
Yet he did find success with a Canadian student nurse called Mary whom he met at the Tollcross Cavendish. The pair married in 1955 and he was still driving his cab when their first child was born. "I remember taking her to Simpsons when she was expecting our first child. When I pulled up three nurses came out to get her and said 'is your husband not with you?' I was just the driver."
Findlay eventually gave up the taxi business, becoming a blinds salesman and moving to Manchester. He and his wife returned to Scotland seven years ago. It was then that he put pen to paper.
"When I drove the taxi I used to entertain people by telling them stories. I have been on creative writing courses and everyone said "a taxi book, great idea", but doing it proved difficult. The gestation period has been quite a long time.
"But now it's done, and there are two more volumes to come. I just hope people enjoy it.
"Many things have changed about Edinburgh, but the one thing that's the same is that taxi drivers know everything that's going on.
"Mind you the prices are pretty expensive. It was 10p when you pulled the flag in my time.
"I got a taxi from the Royal Scots Club to Waverley and it cost me £5."
Taxi! Never a Dull Day - A Cabbie Remembers, by Douglas J Findlay, is published by Birlinn, at £8.99. It is also available to order direct from Douglas at Glenesk, Canonbie, Dumfriesshire, DG14 OSZ at the same price. Postage is free.
Source; http://edinburghnews.scotsman.com/featu ... iclepage=3
Login
Register
FAQ
