Now came a derby day in the Cup. It was in March of 1952 and we were drawn in the sixth round against our old rivals and neighbours Blackburn Rovers at Ewood Park. We were expected to win this match, and win well. But there is nothing certain in football, especially in the Cup. Blackburn Rovers defeated us by three goals to one. As I approached the boardroom at the finish, the commissionaire asked me for my ticket of admission. I think this ticket system for people inside the ground is a silly arrangement. The attendant must have seen me often during the afternoon, and had allowed me into the boardroom before the game and at half-time, so that to ask again for the ticket was really duplication. Anyway, I could not find the ticket, and when admission to the boardroom was refused I am afraid I exploded. 'John Bull' was coming out again!

I was expected to stand in the passage to await the other Burnley directors or officials as they arrived to go in. After ten minutes of this humiliation some Rovers officials came along and said they were sorry, and offered me a ticket into the holy of holies. This did not satisfy me, and I am afraid 'John Bull' spoke rather plainly about their system. Since that day I can honestly say I have never really enjoyed visiting the Blackburn Rovers club. But this did not prevent us in 1956, when the Turf Moor floodlighting system was introduced and opened, from inviting the Rovers to play the first game under the lights to inaugurate the new system. The Rovers received about �800 net from this match, but my opinion of them ran true to form when a season later they had their own floodlighting system installed but did not reciprocate by asking Burnley to open it! What else could we think but that we were not good enough?

Now I must turn back a bit to my first season on the board. I felt I had been privileged to have the opportunity of increasing my knowledge and back-stage experiences in Big Football. Burnley finished the season in 14th place after a very worrying start. In May 1952 preparations were made for the annual general meeting in June and, according to the Articles of Association at that time, four directors were due to retire. All of them sought re-election - Messrs. George Tate, William Horrocks, Reggie Cooke, and Wilfred Hopkinson. The board meeting, on the last day for nomination, was interrupted by the secretary of the club being called to the office to receive nominations for William Pickard and William Chew. On his return he announced the names of the new candidates. This put the cat among the pigeons, and was to be followed by one of the many explosions I have witnessed in the Burnley boardroom.

With one exception, every director verbally agreed to support the four retiring candidates. The one exception was the 'Junior Minister', and when I was asked by the chairman why I had not done so I replied that I was voting by ballot. I said I was at least being honest all round, because perhaps other directors may have indicated they would vote that way but might not carry out the verbal agreement when the secret ballot arrived. This brought cries of wrath from more than one director. They said I was casting aspersions on their characters, that I was the odd man out. I repeated that I was at least being honest and open. The meeting ended in uproar.

Next, on Whit Monday 1952, I was called to Mr. Kay's business office, and there was the chairman with Mr. Hopkinson. They both appeared much concerned about the election. I told them that as far as I was concerned - and at that time I had not many shares - I would not be voting for Mr. Tate who, during that first year, to my way of thinking, had not quite measured up to full quality as a progressive director. I told them it seemed to me he was always, or nearly always, voting the same way as the chairman and Mr. Hopkinson. There are differences of opinion, of course, on various occasions among the directors of all clubs in the Football League, as in all walks of life. I had no personal bias whatever, but I like a director to state his own view frankly and support it - to stand up and say what he thinks. That is the way we work at the present time. Granted, there were other members of the board of directors at Turf Moor who acted similarly fairly often, but it was useless in my view, and not entirely good for the club, to attempt to change too many members of the directorate at one swipe. However, I told the chairman I was working against Mr. Tate, although I fully realised that unless the two gentlemen present weighed in with their votes against him Mr. Tate would still be elected.

To my surprise, Mr. Kay said: "If Tate has to go Horrocks goes with him." This was a situation to which I did not object, because I did not think he had contributed a great deal to the board's progress. I was learning now by practical experience of the ups-and-downs of running a Football League club, which isn't so easy as many people imagine. Well, the vote came round at the annual meeting and the figures were Tate 481, Horrocks 615, Cooke 1547, Hopkinson 1245, Pickard 988, and Chew 1052. So Messrs. Tate and Horrocks were out and Messrs. Chew and Pickard were in. However, Mr. Chew resigned in the summer of 1953.

Meetings of Football League club directors are sometimes rather protracted. On one occasion at Burnley there was a knock on the door and in came the wife of one of the directors to say she was waiting no longer. Was he coming? There are no female directors in English football, but some of them seem to help to run the show back-stage. That was another of my first-year impressions. My association with Mr. Kay on the board had been reasonably good, and I think good for the club. We had been getting along fairly well, and I had kept my word and always supported him as chairman. But, owing to a number of factors, I came to the conclusion in August 1952 that I could not continue to support him as chairman any longer. And when I told him so privately the fun and games began again.

In October 1952 a strange thing happened. We were visiting the Spurs at Tottenham, and in those days at least two directors always travelled with the team. Mr. Tom Baron and myself were appointed, and the chairman had left a written message with the secretary that if he was not at Turf Moor by 9 p.m. on the day we were leaving he would not be going with the team. At that hour we left by coach, and for some reason travelled by a different route to Manchester. The chairman had not sent a message to say he was going, so I suppose the party did not expect him. We certainly did not expect to have to pick him up anywhere en route.

We went on to London, and half an hour after reaching the hotel Mr. Baron and I were surprised to see the chairman there. We had apparently left him stranded in Burnley centre, a route we usually took in the coach. It was all an entirely unexpected and unrehearsed incident, but Mr. Kay insisted that we had ignored him and left him behind deliberately. So there was another storm, this time in a London hotel. It was the first of many during the next few days.

The game at Tottenham was drawn, and this seemed to improve the chairman's mood for the return journey. To my surprise, I was telephoned by more than one director on the Sunday asking what had happened. It culminated in all directors, except Mr. Kay, meeting in my office, and agreeing that we could no longer continue confidence in his chairmanship. As a board we had a duty and the prerogative to make a change. A couple of days afterwards, when the chairman was so informed at a board meeting, the fur really flew. Two members of the board came near to fisticuffs and a chair was broken. I did my best to keep order, but the meeting adjourned after occupying several hours.

The adjournment did not last long. We reassembled around 6 p.m. and, although tempers had cooled a bit, the situation was still full of fire. Indeed, it became so disturbing and emotional that Mr. Baron collapsed. I am not suggesting that anyone had touched him. I suppose the strain was too great. To see a colleague on the floor was a shock to me, and I was assured afterwards that it was emotional strain which caused his collapse.

We met again two days later, and the task was accomplished. Mr. Kay was out-voted as chairman and, to his surprise, Mr. Hopkinson was elected in his place. Mr. Kay, I think, was feeling that I, the barrow boy, was going to be chairman, but at this stage I had no thought of it. My promotion would not have been good for the club, because of my inexperience, and no one knew that better than I did. I did support Mr. Hopkinson's selection, as he had been a director for many years without being given the lead. His knowledge of football and footballers was greater than that of all the rest of the board at that period. Under his leadership, for two and three-quarter years, many improvements at Turf Moor were realised. New dressing-rooms, a new medical room, a new and better room for the referee and linesmen, and a new stand on the popular side. We were getting on!

In fact, when Mr. Hopkinson's period in the chair concluded in the summer of 1955, Turf Moor was really beginning to look like a first-class First Division ground. One difference was this: under the earlier set-up we had a chairman inclined to be dictatorial in his ways. Under the new chairman the responsibilities were split up. A finance committee under Mr. Baron, a ground committee and a refreshment and transport committee under Mr. Cook. New committees, signs of progress. I was seeing daylight for my plan.

Still on the board was Tom Clegg, that grand old-timer. He was as pleased as punch at these improvements. Mr. Kay stayed on the board until mid-1956, and did so actively. He was warming towards me, moving towards the more cordial attitude of the days before I was on the board. Indeed, in April 1955 he paid me a high compliment. The barrow boy was beginning to be more highly regarded by a section of the board. In January 1955 came events which were to prove one of the finest developments in the Burnley club's history. Mr. Hopkinson and I had agreed about a definite youth policy. Earlier, Tom Clegg was probably the instigator of such a policy in first-class football, about the same time Mr. Jim Taylor was working along similar lines for Preston North End. This pair were pioneers.

Well, in January 1955 Alan Brown, now the manager at Turf Moor, told me of a wonderful site on the borders of Burnley and Padiham which could be developed for playing fields. The idea grew in the following months, and after much reconnoitring and examination of facts and figures 'The Cabinet' decided that I should attend the sale by auction of seventy-nine and a third acres of land adjoining Gawthorpe Hall. I was instructed to bid no more than �1250 for the estate.

This was a ridiculous figure - a figure unbecoming even to an inexperienced businessman who might have been sent on the job. It was a figure to which Mr. Kay, who opposed the scheme, had persuaded the board to agree. I did not mind. My duty was to attend. But at the auction I was surprised to see Messrs. Kay and Pickard present from the board. I was reminded by the former not to exceed �1250.

To his astonishment, when the auctioneer finished the sermon and asked for an opening offer, I bid �4000. At once Mr. Kay jumped to his feet and exclaimed so that everyone around heard: "Th'art not buying it for Burnley Football Club." For the first time I replied to my old friend by telling him to sit down . . . who was he to regulate my private affairs? In the end I bought the land for �5250.

Mr. Pickard privately indicated to me that he would share the cost, but it was Bob Lord who paid the cheque for the 10 per cent deposit to the auctioneer. And it was Bob Lord, as you will soon see, who saw through the completion of the purchase. The reason I bought this estate myself at the figure - and I had the lot - was that it fitted into the Plan. Rightly or wrongly, I thought I was being made the mug, so I attended the auction intent on buying the estate in my own name. No such thing had ever happened before in our old club's history.

Mr. Kay reminded me after the auction that under no consideration would Burnley F.C. have anything to do with it. But I knew events would swing my way. They did so, quicker than one expected, and you might call this the day when the barrow boy became 'Lord Bob'. You see, after the deal I was besieged by the local Press, who had heard of the exclamation, "Th'art not buying it for Burnley Football Club." They were perturbed about the reason for the purchase. The next day's newspapers suggested that the 'Lord' was now in 'agriculture'. But after the auction I went to Turf Moor, where Alan Brown was waiting, and said, "Do you really want these playing fields?" He replied, "Nothing would please me more."

Mark what happened next: a day or so later a local industrial firm offered me �15,000 for those seventy-nine and a third acres. A nice profit, you will say. Yes, but ten times the amount would not have tempted me to part. Only one firm could do that - Burnley Football Club. The next board meeting showed that official minds had been at work and were wondering about the suitability of this land for the purpose, but I think they were surprised when I sold the estate to the club for less than I had paid for it. Please don't think I am mentioning these matters boastfully. I only wish to illustrate the unbusiness-like methods then in vogue among a section at Turf Moor.

With this seventy-nine and a third acres were included a barn, shippons, outhouses, and a six-roomed cottage. The shippons were so built around the barn as to make the building ideal for turning into dressing-rooms, while the barn became a gymnasium. All this was done during June and July 1955, with Alan Brown working very hard. He had four people who toiled just as hard - Billy Dougal, Ray Bennion, and George Bray, our trainers, and Peter McKay (then our centre-forward) plus two part-time bricklayers. By the first week of August we were all set for trial games, and juniors and trialists were to be seen at Gawthorpe. We had organized three full-sized playing pitches which would have been the envy of most First Division clubs.

Burnley's complete Youth Policy had been inaugurated. Many of the juniors and stars in our First Division team today kicked their first ball for the club on Gawthorpe's seventy-nine and a third acres: John Angus, as I write, captain of England's Under-23 team; Alec Elder, Irish international left-back; Walter Joyce, the player who kept the great Kopa quiet when Rheims played at Turf Moor in November 1961in the European Cup; John Connelly, England's panther of a wingman; Ray Pointer, the 'Blond Bombshell' and England centre-forward; Jimmy Robson, at 22 one of the best all-rounders Burnley have ever had; Gordon Harris, England Under-23 outside-left, the strongest wingman in the First Division, with a bullet shot in either foot. One of these days the force of Harris's shooting will injure a goalkeeper.

We can go further: Adam Blacklaw in goal, Tommy Cummings, now chairman of the Professional Footballers' Association, Jimmy Adamson, 1962 Footballer of the Year and assistant team-chief for England in the World Cup, Brian Miller, and Jimmy McIlroy have all benefited from the environment and facilities of those acres. It you want to know why Burnley, with an �8000 team (approximate again; do not forget the League's rules and regulations), can challenge the �350,000 sides in the First Division, the answer is: Directors do not scout. The manager manages. The scouts are professionals who know the raw material when they see it. The trainers and coaches are practical men, not relying on blackboard and chalk and all that tommy-rot. Star billiards players don't trot round and round the table; they practise on it. That is what we do in football.

But there were snags in this estate scheme. In September 1955, while on holiday at Bournemouth, I received word through the newspapers at home that the Lancashire County Council Planning Committee had queried our right to Gawthorpe. It appeared likely that we should not be able to use it for sport purposes. This was a real shock. I could see castles in the air toppling. I had to go home on the hop to get the facts. Apparently all these alterations on the estate were, by law, illegal. We had not asked or received permission from the Planning Committee to carry out the work! I had been guilty of not knowing such laws. But, to the lasting credit of that authority, permission was granted to us to carry on. They are to be complimented on their approach to the provision of facilities for sport, either amateur or professional, so that it can take its proper place in the daily life of the community. The much-discussed acres apparently were saved from 'agriculture'.

Now came another shock. Towards the end of 1955 came notification from the National Coal Board that the greater part of Gawthorpe would be wanted for open-cast mining. The N.C.B. had compulsory powers to use their bulldozers. Bulldozers! You cannot do much about those things. Indeed, we could do nowt about it. This was a real smack in the eye. But after many always amicable meetings with N.C.B. officials - it's no use arguing with these good people, any more than it is arguing with the telephone girls on the exchange - we managed to come to terms.

Part of the estate not required for mining operations could be devoted to two full-size football pitches. One was to be an all-weather pitch, the first in the North of England. We can play on it under all conditions except thaw, as the River Calder, which ran through the northern part of the estate, was diverted to run along the southern side. There was much inconvenience and headache, but goodwill and fair dealing overcame all obstacles. The result of the reorganisation is that Burnley now have four good football pitches in regular use there. Yes, three pitches became four, and every one is employed to capacity. The club can now turn out footballers almost like a farmer breeds his cattle. Not that they are all star footballers. But we have the ways and means of bringing them along, instead of rushing to the bank with whacking big cheques, most of which we do not possess.

But I must turn back to the day when the barrow boy glimpsed the chair. In April 1955 the directors were viewing their Gawthorpe estate and we talked of its possibilities. Mr. Kay still did not like the scheme, and told me he had done his best to thwart it, but in his generous way said he had miscalculated. This was a compliment - perhaps the first he had paid me. More were to come. He went on to say that he wished me to be the next chairman, a suggestion I had no truck with. I told him I had not the experience to make a success of it, having been on the board only four years . . . four years of enjoyment, despite all the bust-ups. But the upstanding chairman of days gone by was to have his own way in this matter. On June 2nd, 1955, I was elected chairman.

There were nine directors at the meeting, and when the vote by show of hands was taken what do you think I did? I closed my eyes. I did not wish to see any vote against my promotion, an action I have never regretted. I believe a candidate for any such position can always work for harmony more sincerely if he does not know who voted for and who voted against him. Although Mr. Kay and I had many times crossed swords in words and action - and crossed swords is correct, because the sparks flew from the steel - I still had every respect for him. He was a genuine man, honest in his thoughts, loyal to the club at all times. He said, "Just as you promised me your support on joining the board, and kept it until you told me of your change of mind, so I give you my support." He was elected vice-chairman, and never once during the rest of his life - about a year - did we have one cross word at any time. During those four years I had more fully formed the Plan for Progress. Initial parts had been accomplished; a great deal remained to be done. Now one was in a position to work quicker. The reins were in my hands. 'Lord Bob' was driving. What heights could Burnley attain?

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