John Town sadly passed away recently and life suddenly got a lot greyer. Hundreds of us said goodbye yesterday on a biting cold day demanding one of the gorgeous overcoats he used to sell us at Raymond Town Menswear in Saltaire, stood alone in the shop for a day.
Here’s my personal tribute to a man that brought so much fun to my life and many others.
When I joined Mercantile Credit (MCC) in 1985, little did I know that it would lead to the start of an enduring relationship with a menswear shop, at that time located on the outskirts of Bradford.
At the Bradford office of MCC, a lady called Hazel Horn ran the show and had done so for longer than most could remember.
Tall and elegant, before you even thought you might start to amount to anything you had to prove yourself to Hazel first. She handled any crisis with regal aplomb and me, as a new recruit, like a helpless cub.
For all Hazel taught me about the working life, her most enduring legacy was sorting out my bodily itching caused by my one and only suit, a cobalt blue horsehair disaster purchased from Derek’s Discount Centre on the aptly named Cheapside in Bradford.
She introduced me to her brother-in-law – John – owner of Raymond Town Menswear, situated all those years ago up the Manchester Road out of Bradford and already with several MCC “reps” as customers.
From that day on I never saw Derek again and my itching stopped overnight.
I can honestly say though, that it would have been cheaper to have had six kids and send them all to Eton than begin shopping at “Towny’s” all those years ago.
Equally, I can also say I’ve loved every minute of it and feel very privileged – like so many – to have known John.
Townys has always been so much more than a menswear shop. It’s a drop-in centre, although you have to buy at least half a dozen shirts to get a coffee.
I wiled away many an afternoon chewing the fat in my time on the road. It was here I first met a competitor – Graham “Goal-a-Game” Lee – and most Tuesdays I could find Goal-a-Game propped against the counter, coffee in hand, talking about anything other than finance.
Small wonder the banks went tits up with employees like us.
A few years after I was directed up Manchester Road by Hazel, John took the plunge and moved across town to Saltaire as the locals had started to view his stock as free issue. He moved again soon after, only this time across the road to bigger premises.
With his son Richard – aka Jasper – now on board, there were now two of them waiting to fleece you as you walked through the doors in search of little more than a warm and a coffee. They became an inimitable double-act.
Never short of a quick-fire line, often John would greet my arrival with one of the following:
“Sorry son you want the charity shop a few doors down!” or “Bugger off back to C&A!”
When a pair of trousers would not fit he had the ability to be direct and honest “your arse is too big!” before resuscitating my ego and up-selling me into a pair twice as expensive with effortless ease.
I remember John’s 50th at the Midland Hotel. He was led on stage, blindfolded and then asked to guess the sizes of several customers by touch alone. Uncannily, he seemed to know not only their sizes but who they were and which pocket they kept their wallets in!
Richard soon got in on the act and, just like the unavoidable temptation of sweets at the supermarket checkout for kids, with the exit door in sight, he will purr “…and a pair of shoes Sir?” as eloquent and as seductive as a fine wine.
It is pointless to try to resist.
Many years later, two successful businessmen and both customers of Towny confessed to me that, for all their respective business acumen, they were putty in the hands of John and Richard.
As one said to me “I go in determined to buy a shirt and in no time I’m calling the missus to bring down a suitcase! I’ve no idea how they do it and I shit myself going in for a coffee!”
I’ve known friends go in for the first time simply to test the water and buy a shirt; an hour later they do indeed have the shirt plus the suit, tie and shoes to match.
People deal with people; that was and remains the lure of shopping at Raymond Town. This little independent remains an oasis of personal service, created by John and adopted seamlessly by Richard.
It is simply great fun to shop there.
Where else could you leave a shop laden down by your purchases, having had your credit card reduced to molten plastic, with the proprietor bidding you such a fond farewell.
“Now bugger off and don’t come back!” he would shout, followed by a wink.
Perhaps John’s appeal is best summed up by the words of a pal of mine.
“You introduced me to a true gent.”
Gasman says
Remember the time you went to buy a shirt , and was politely asked how much you wanted to spend, £40 you replied, eyeing you with sympathy he said I”ll just have a look in the rag box.