The writer was privileged to receive a guided tour some four years ago by the late Norman Clare. Since Norman's death his son Peter has maintained, not only the museum, but the same level of enthusiasm that his father exuded. The museum provides a tangible history of the trade, not only of Clare's and the Thurston group, but of all the major (and many of the minor) billiards houses that have existed since the game began.
Returning to the cue chalker - an American invention - the device has a tip, "scuffer, " at the opposite end to the chalker, and also dispenses French chalk onto the bridge hand of the player. Clearly the device wasn't versatile enough, it should have included a copy of the rules and a calculator.
Out of the same cupboard came an ordinary brass pocket-plate, but with an extraordinary 360 degree twist in it. Not the work of Uri Geller but the result of an outraged inmate of Hull prison during the riot of a few years ago. Was it true, I asked Mr. Clare, that the prisoner was recaptured a few days later wearing a green suit.
The tour began on the stairs leading up to the museum proper. There, hanging proudly, is the portrait of Walter Lindrum by Capt John Longstaff, familiar to all those who have read the Andrew Ricketts biography of Walter. This picture is soon to go to Australia on loan. The stairway is further adorned by a set of the famous Lance Thackrey, "double entendre," prints, and many newspaper cartoons from the likes of Roy Ulyett. A favourite of Peter Clare's, by, "ac," shows Mrs Thatcher supervising the delivery of a billiard table into No. 10. The caption suggests that Mark Thatcher would not have got lost in the desert if his hobby had been billiards. Framed sets of cigarette cards, cue plates, and table plates are all displayed, all relating to little pieces of billiards history.
On the first floor we saw beds from early tables, and learned that slate was by no means the only material ever used. A wooden bed had been salvaged from the old Cheaney Walk premises of Thurstons where it had been keeping out the rain for many years. This was a criss-cross wooden framework with the gaps filled with square wooden blocks. The grain on the blocks was alternated to cancel out any tendencies to warp.
A set of concrete slabs were also seen. These were not only tongued and grooved but were fixed together longitudinally. This was probably unnecessary as the weight alone would surely have held them in place. This concrete bed then sat on a cast iron frame. Contemporary reports say that a ball hitting a cushion at speed produced a metallic pinging sound.
Glass has also been tried as an alternative to slate, and even quite recently, Pilkington's have tried developing a floated glass product but with no success. Ball returners and List cushions were also on display.
The main room of the museum is an Aladdin's cave of billiards antiquities and oddities. Centre stage is an octagonal table. Not a true octagonal but a rectangular table with the corners chopped off and two-foot long cushion rails inserted. Each corner rail has a pocket halfway along its length and the table had middle pockets as usual. Above hangs gas lighting with cardboard shades. There is a photograph of Norman Clare as a young man erecting one of these tables but they were not a commercial success. On the table was a mace. This had a sighting line at the business end but in alignment only for a right-handed player; there are maces in existence for lefthanders. Presumably a mace without a sighting line would be ambidextrous.
Balls abounded - of course - of most makes and materials. Full sets of balls for billiards, snooker, life pool, were there contained in beautifully crafted boxes, a tribute to the cabinet makers art. Special practice balls with rings are to be seen, some old, some quite modern.
Peter showed us the development of the cushion. From list to natural rubber and to vulcanised rubber. Natural rubber had so little bounce that in cold weather it was necessary to heat up the cushions before play could begin. This was done with special elongated hot-water bottles. No doubt a job for the spot boy whilst the men were enjoying port and cigars.
Cues, cues, cues! Cues with elaborate marquetry butts. Cues of one piece, two pieces, three pieces, four pieces. Cues made from ash, maple, and acacia. Early attempts at steel cues as well as the more recent, but no more successful, "Apollo" aluminium cues. There was a fibreglass cue from New Zealand, graphite cues from Canada, and magnesium alloy cues from Italy. This one was built in two extendable pieces with a screw tip thus incorporating every gimmick thought of in one cue!
Moving round the room we saw gadgetry including various styles of rest heads, rests for one-armed players, chalk of different colours, cue-cramps, and assorted tip-shapers. One device was a box of wheels and gears which looked more like a medieval instrument of torture than what it really was - a ferrule fitter. Framed editions of the rules from various table makers are hung around the walls in chronological order forming almost a history of the game - Gillow (The first table company,) Thurston (The first makers of a standard table,) Cox and Yemen, Sowersby, Ayres.
There were many types of Scoreboard on view. Those designed for country houses were large and elaborate incorporating life-pool markers and sitting on sideboards that would contain the balls, the iron, and other accessories. Scoreboards for public halls included metering devices actuated by coins or tokens, the mechanism to index the scoring cylinder to the next twenty points could be locked until further money was inserted. There were life-pool markers with their accompanying stake boxes, a visible means of showing that all players (up to twelve) had chipped in to the pool. Tables themselves could obviously not be displayed in any quantity but there was one with historic connections. This was a travelling table with folding legs thought to have been the property of the Duke of Wellington. One interesting table was not on display but was mentioned. This was the, ".I.P. - Multum in Parvo - "Much in Little," - a practice table comprising just one full-size top slate and used by enthusiasts who wished to practice the spot stroke or top-of-the-table in their home and not having room for a full-size. If anyone knows where there might be one for sale then Peter Clare would love to know.
But there were many photographs of famous tables including the all-slate one made for Prince Albert to be seen at Osbourne House on the Isle of Wight, and a wonderfully ornate table by, "Orme," which was sold a few years age for £80,000.
In another room there was a lathe used for turning old balls and above this hangs a glass case containing a very ordinary looking ash cue but which had belonged to an anything but ordinary player - Joe Davis.
Closest to my own heart perhaps was the library. Bound copies of, "The Billiard Player," and other magazines occupied many shelves as did many other books too numerous to mention here. Before the visit ended we all made purchases from the shop which has the biggest range of cue games equipment I have ever seen. Then we all made our thanks to Peter Clare for so generously giving up his Saturday morning and taking the trouble to explain exhibits in such detail. My own feeling on the visit were of overwhelming relief that the museum, so carefully and lovingly established over the years by the father, should be maintained and improved by the son.