Conclusion (part 1, ‘the plus side’)
It was always unlikely that Made in Brighton would produce miracle results. In terms of official responses from council or medical services many who work in these areas argue that, institutionally, officialdom simply can’t react to Lee’s case least of all fix it. The official reaction is pre-set and it seems it cannot make special exceptions. Moreover, avoidance of even the slightest risk of litigation paralyzes institutional responses. I might add – and this is just my opinion – frontline council officials, although they would deny it, are prone to a degraded view of the public (the public as an ignorant, ungrateful blob).
Council insiders tell me that there are hundreds of people – doubtless Lee included – on the ‘Clients of Concern’ register who are at loggerheads with the council over some grievance or other. Navigating their own precarious mental health as well as the often Kafkaesque world of council bureaucracy leaves members of the public crushed. Unlike Lee most give up.
And so Lee wants the council to know his story as we’ve written it (all of it). He wants them to recognise that they carry some moral responsibility for the actions of past authorities because these past authoritiesare intimately linked with the abuses wrought upon him (these actions made Lee the person he is today). Only then – says Lee – might the council accept that there is a case for acting according to common decency rather than legal obligation. Of course legally the council are not obliged to do anything for Lee over and above those set out in their standard procedures.
I’m writing Part 1 of this conclusion in November 2020. Lee and I decided to wait and see what happened as a result of an October 22nd meeting offered to us by the council before part 2 is published. Certainly, this first part of our concluding chapter cannot wait any longer. However, before Part 2 and its description of the official response, I wanted to go ahead and list some of the heart warming and fascinating comments that emerged following publication of the first three extracts on this site. There also follows a piece written by Lee’s sister Sherree telling her own story.
Many of the comments came via Facebook groups such as Brighton Past where Lee himself shared each of the extracts across three successive weeks in June 2020. Alongside a reinvigorated relationship with his brother Chris, these comments were miraculous outcomes in their own way. Lee had always told me that his story would chime with ordinary Brighton people and he was right. I can vouch for the fact that expressions of love and support and solidarity (anecdotes from poverty-stricken childhoods, playing on the tip and being placed in care) were warmly received by Lee. Here are just a few:
‘Thanks Lee for sharing, very brave and hard thing to do, what terrible trauma. Peace and love to you. Still a lot of failings today, but a lot better than the old days’.
‘That was so interesting as in the 1970s I walked my dogs over there and often wondered about what was under where I was walking. In some areas badgers had made their home and it looked like black soot and I would often get a whiff of a sort of gas smell maybe methane [ ], now it’s all covered in grass and is a more pleasant area but still occasionally smell that gas’.
‘My brothers and I would have enormous fun playing on the tip at Sheepcote Valley in the fifties….there were old cars and lorries piled high on top of one another…..I remember one particular one we found…an American Studebaker with three headlights! We opened the bonnet and the battery was still in it and it was sparking! We retired to a safe distance……’
‘I grew up in Whitehawk too and remember the tip where we used to play. So sorry to hear how you had to deal with such a sad childhood Lee. I hope sharing your story will help you and others along the way’.
‘Such a heart-breaking story. Thank you so much for having the courage to share it Lee’.
‘Very moving Lee 😢 & brave of you to share this 💖 hugs 😘’
‘Thanks for sharing Lee. Such traumatic times for you and your family’.
‘Fantastic writing telling it how it was ….. and people talk about ‘the good old days’ 🙏❣️
‘Thank you again Lee for sharing this. Kim and I often used to chat in the school playground, as our sons were in the same class. It was unbelievably sad that she took her life’.
‘they will always hide the truth under the rug. Lee is a human with feelings and its sad he has to carry so much pain through his life. mental health issues are real … flash backs are real . Hope one day u find some peace through all ur pain. we can never clear the past, but look forward to future x’
‘really interesting… grew up in Coldean, Upper Lewes Rd and Whitehawk in the 70’s… all this rings true to me. i remember the tip with cars sticking out the mud and toxic gas bubbles… i hope he finds peace, and recognition’.
‘I was a few years your junior and was never allowed to play over there. My stomping ground was elm grove but we used to go over to meet friends without our parents knowing 😂’
‘your story is shaming to the authorities, but you are not alone… plenty have similar stories unfortunately… your strength is an inspiration and your determination is an honour to yourself and others who “know your pain” good luck and keep fighting. Xx’
‘heartbreak I spent all my life in care’.
‘same here’.
‘this story made me cry only us will understand’.
‘This brought back memories and was very moving. I hope now teachers would be more alert to hungry children than they were then, I can remember quite a few that had seconds and thirds at school dinners, and staff did try to help where they could. It also shows how important mental health is, I think Lee’s mother had her own problems which made her incapable of relating well to her children, and I hope that would be picked up more often now as well. I think there is more awareness now but there are still children who are suffering in similar circumstances and it’s up to all of us to try to help though often it’s not easy’.
‘Very interesting, I spent my school holidays up the tip, my dad and grandfather were totters, they used to break up old cars. They were both severely burnt, when an empty fuel tank went up. My dad was carrying it, and grandad lit a fag up. Dad had over a 100 skin grafts, and we spent lots of time visiting him, in East Grinstead. I was about 7 years old, so 1964. But as the Rolfs, some who I went to school with, at Queens park secondary modern, the tip was our playground. I remember a Chris Rolf, from when I lived in Whitehawk, we all drank in The Clyde, and The Whitehawk’.
Even more miraculous was Lee’s younger sister Sherree making contact. Neither have seen one another for X years. Lee tells me Sherree rang and they’d talked for four hours. A few weeks ago she wrote her recollections down for Lee and she’s happy that I include them here.
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Growing up in the 60s
by Sherree Rolf – 20 October 2020
Whitehawk
My earliest memory goes back to living in a council house in Wiston Road, Whitehawk. I must have been around 6 years old. I don’t have any recollection of what the house was like inside but I remember I shared it with Mum and my siblings. We attended Whitehawk Infants School. I don’t remember seeing much of my Dad at this house.
32 The Avenue – Moulescoombe
We moved to The Avenue when I would have been about 8. There was an allotment behind the back garden and a big green to play on in front of the house. The house was cold and uninviting, strewn with piles of clothes, in poor décor and a mishmash of furniture. The loo would often get blocked as a result of having to use torn-up newspaper instead of toilet roll to wipe ourselves and baths were only on a Sunday night when the hot water had to be saved for the next person. We didn’t have such luxuries as a washing machine, tumble dryer, electric iron, telephone or even a TV with a decent picture. Every other Sunday we would carry the week’s wash in black bin liners on a bus to the launderette in Lewes Road. As children we kept ourselves entertained by playing with our school friends who lived on the Avenue.
It was at this house that I first noticed Lee was displaying signs of alternative behaviour after the accident at the tip. On Saturdays Mum used to work on a market stall and we would often spend the day being looked after by our lovely Nanny Giles (Dad’s step-grandmother who had no children of her own) who lived in a small self-contained unit in a residential care home for the elderly near St Peters Church, or at Nanny Fennell’s flat at 109 Upper Lewis Road (the family with hidden secrets). We weren’t allowed to play in the front lounge and the family would go out of their way to avoid the Jewish family living in the basement flat downstairs. It was whilst I was at this flat one Saturday, that I first heard Lee had been in an accident at the local tip. Someone had said that he had made a homemade bomb which had exploded. He was hurt and had been taken to hospital. I don’t recall much more being said about the incident after that.
Life seemed to carry on as normal; waking up our younger sister and getting her ready for Infants, coming home and playing outside till dusk and running around to catch doodle-bugs and bats. I don’t recall there being any supervision to ensure we washed or brushed our teeth, and there were times we walked to school unkempt. I can remember being happy that I was able to join Girl Guides and felt proud to wear the blue uniform and being able to go away on camping trips with the club. I sometimes got mocked from the others for wearing the Guide cap, but with each badge I collected the better I felt. I remember Chrissy going to a boxing club and Kim excelled at swimming. I don’t remember Lee ever going to any after school clubs. There were snippets of time when we would be happy when Mum would take us to the fairground, or on bus ride to Woodingdean Park or to Brighton Races for a picnic and even trips to the circus. And each Saturday after work, she would bring us home our favourite cake and a packet of sweets from the market stall where she worked.
It was while I was at Bevendean School, and not long after his accident at the tip, that Lee started to become withdrawn and uncommunicative. He seemed quiet and alone, almost as if he were in his own little ‘bubble’ world. There were times we would come home from school in the winter cold and there would be no-one at home – not even a key on a piece of string dangling from the letterbox, to allow us in. Chrissy would go around inspecting the house to see if there was a window that was partially open that he could climb through, but quite often we were left outside with no option but to play on the green until Mum came home. We would watch the buses go by one after another up the Avenue, in the hope she would be on the next bus, laden with shopping bags. Occasionally a kindly neighbour would take us in for tea and toast to keep us out of the cold while we constantly checked to see if we could see a flicker of light or smoke billowing from the chimney, which would indicate she was home.
Lee would walk around the house with his grey school pullover with damp sleeves frayed at the edges and dangling over his hands, not wanting to touch anything with his bare hands, especially something Dad had touched. He seemed sullen and didn’t wash and didn’t like anyone touching him. He didn’t seem to engage with us like a normal child would, but instead seemed distant and disconnected. It was often said that my Dad treated him with contempt and my mother struggled with his behaviour and seemed to blame him for a lot of things. She would often say that Chrissy was his Dad’s favourite. There were no cuddles, kisses or words of encouragement, in fact it almost felt we were a burden and part the reason for her struggles. Lee disliked Dad so intensely that he even refused to walk through the same door as him or refused to touch anything he had touched. It became apparent that Chrissy was the sporty one and Lee the creative one. And whilst Dad would take Chrissy to boxing classes, Lee would get left behind. Lee would refuse to go anywhere with him and became agitated by his presence and at times would become angry and lash out. He seemed unsettled and disturbed and began wetting the bed. His room was grubby and he would wake up scratching with flea bites. On one occasion at Nanny Giles’s house I saw my Mum crack an egg on his head as a form of punishment. I was shocked but again this was another indication that she couldn’t control him. The boys fought at times, like brothers do, but Lee’s unpredictable anger would sometimes get the better of him. He was suffering in silence and his personal well-being was subjectively overlooked.
Mum was battling her own mental health issues at the time, coupled with the constant upheaval of having to provide food and clothes for the family and mounting household bills. There was a short period of time whilst living in The Avenue, when she had to go away somewhere and my Auntie and had to step in and take care of us. I don’t remember anyone telling us what had happened to her, but my guess in later life was that she may have had a breakdown and needed respite. She had endured a tough childhood of her own followed by further hardship bringing up five children single-handedly. I learnt in my forties, that she had given birth to a son three years prior to my eldest brother being born and before she married my Dad. The child was officially adopted at the age of three months.
On Sundays Dad would sometimes take us out (excluding Lee) to the cinema or take us for a drive in his car and there were times when she would get us ready, for him not to turn up and this would cause further tension. She complained endlessly about being left without money and that he hadn’t paid any maintenance again. Quite often she would have to queue at the Mags court in Edward Street to pick up the meagre allowance to be sometimes told that no money had been paid in. She didn’t even have the bus fare home and would often have to borrow money from her family to get by. On the odd occasion he would turn his back and flick a few quid from some rolled up notes with his nicotine fingers and give her some money. The disparity in their lifestyles was miles apart. His comfortable lifestyle of owning a convertible car, nice breaks to the countryside, smart clothes and frequenting casinos versus her struggling to get by each day with little money, no holidays, jumble-sale clothes and no help with the children, took its toll and caused bitterness and resentment. Lee’s challenging behaviour at this time was not helping but nobody seemed to have noticed or queried why his behaviour had changed and what therapies or help could have been available to him.
20 The Crescent, Moulsecoombe – Lee’s departure
We moved to 20 The Crescent, Hillside, I had just moved up from juniors to Falmer High School. One particular day I was standing behind the window in the dining room looking behind a curtain and saw some people take Lee away. Mum told me to keep away from the window. That was the last I saw of him for a long time. I heard he had been sent away to a Children’s Home because he had become a ‘hand-full’. There was no family discussion or someone to tell us what was happening or whether he would be coming back. No-one to gather around, hug or say goodbye to him. He was just ushered out of the front door into a waiting car.
The words ‘keep away from the window’, ‘hark, keep quiet and don’t answer the door’, and breathing heavily and rapidly through her nose whilst pursing her lips, were familiar traits whenever there was a knock at the door. She didn’t want anyone in the house and would hide behind the curtains.
Soon after I went to live with Dad and Gill my stepmother to a privately rented bungalow on the other side of Brighton. A place called Bengairn, in Bengairn Avenue, Patcham. My grandmother would sometimes come and stay with us but neither she nor my Mum ever got on so conversations about my maternal family weren’t openly discussed. My siblings seemed to live miles away and occasionally I would catch two buses to go and see them after school on a Friday (except Lee who was still at the Home).
Moving to a different household with a different set of rules was at times quite hard, and even though I had my own room and felt safe and well cared for, with home-cooked meals, and a friendly extended family on my stepmother’s side, I still missed the chaos and noise of my old home. I missed our made-up games, playing cricket on the green, climbing apple trees, playful fights, chasing bugs, building dens and making slides out of our tatty bed mattress. I felt catapulted into another life. One minute I was wearing hand-me-down clothes, queuing for free school meals, living in a run-down house, leaving behind a life I probably felt I didn’t want to be part of any more, and was now able to wear new clothes, had money for school meal tickets, received pocket money on a Saturday, was allowed on school trips abroad and found myself sitting down at the dining room table for dinner (something we never did at the other house). At first it was very unsettling, and all I wanted was to have this life but to be with the others too. Sometimes I would even cry myself to sleep. Being brought up in a chaotic household where we had to fend for ourselves most of the time and growing up as 1 of 5 to being an only child and away from my Mum, was quite lonely.
I therefore can’t imagine how Lee must have felt, being sent away to live in a home for unwanted and difficult children. He was only 15 years old, so can only assume that confusion and abandonment must have played heavily on his mind. We didn’t get the opportunity to visit him at the home, and the saddest part of all is nobody really knew what was wrong with him and why he was put there in the first place. He entered the Home as a boy and came out as a young man, more disturbed than when he first went in there.
I left Brighton for good at the age of 19.
Sherree Rolf, October 2020
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I cant express how pleased I am that Lee and Sherree are back in touch. I’m also grateful that she sent Lee a written account of her own story and is happy that I share it. It is extremely moving. Her last paragraph is especially poignant (as is her description of watching Lee through the window, led away by council officers).
The very last extract from Made in Brighton (forming part two of this conclusion) concerns matters relating to the reception given to Lee’s story by the council. As alluded to in opening paragraphs above, various aspects of the council reaction are still playing out. For now, suffice to say the sequence that quickly degenerated (and, after all, we were not expecting miracles) began extremely well when, late in June, Lee’s two Labour party ward councillors offered him this statement:
“We were deeply moved by Lee’s story. Lee is an active and valued member of our community and deserves to be heard. As new councillors we are not privy to the history of how Lee’s case has been handled by previous administrations and officers, but we feel that his concerns need to be looked at. To this end we have requested a meeting of senior officers to discuss the past handling of this matter and how we might assist Lee now and in the future” (Cllrs Childs and Evans, June 26th 2020)