51 Years Ago Today

[Chezaspur]

Wonderful post, thanks Cosmic

 

[Big Jeff]

They used to call him 'The Ghost of White Hart Lane' because he had this uncanny knack of being in the right place at the right time, 'ghosting' into positions which bamboozled the opposition time and time again...he was special. Way ahead of his time, and anyone who had the privelege of watching him play, will never forget him. A lovely player, and by all accounts, a lovely man too. What a bloody ragedy. May God rest his soul.

 

[JerryGarcia]

I'm so pleased the club printed some tributes and remembered the 50th anniversary of John's passing. Not at all surprised that Cliff would mark the day.

Looks like they had a very respectful ceremony on the actual spot where he passed away, he was obviously a man who had a great impact on those who knew him. It was before my time but I still find it unbelievable in a way that such a thing could happen to one of our players in their prime, it's important that we remember him because he should have been one of our living legends, attending games and involved behind the scenes.

 

[HotspurFC1950]

I was driving a lorry underage using my dad's name. The news of Johns death came over the radio. I was not far away. It was raining heavily.

I remember hearing of the tricks John and Dave Mackay did with a half crown in the Pub outside the ground.

It was so coincidental that JW and Dave Mackay suffered totally different tragedies but nonetheless seriously harmful events that messed up the early sixties team.

Mackay was and still is my hero along with Cliff Jones but the tragic death of JW was a dagger in the heart of Spurs fans at that time.

 

[guate]

I was 15 at the time and a huge John White supporter, always trying to model my game on his for my school team, Licensed Victualler's, when it was still in Slough

 

[spursram]

Please excuse this being such a long read, I hope you will think it worth it whether you remember John White or not.

It was 21 July 1964, I was 16, had left school and was enjoying the last long summer holidays before starting my first job in Fleet Street. My friend and I were spending as much time as we could in Cheshunt and at the Lane, watching Spurs train and mingling with them during their breaks and after training. We babysat for some of the players so knew them well and we hung out a lot with some of the youth team players of our own age.

On that day we went to the Lane as the players came out from the ground after some pitch training and stood around chatting with some of the players in the sun on what was an airless and sultry day.

One of the players for whom we babysat, Cliff Jones, drove out in his white mini. He was well known to be a notorious prankster and he pulled up and grinned at us and dangled a pair of trousers out of the car window.

"They're John's," he explained. "He'll be looking everywhere for them." He and John White were best mates, always sharing a hotel room when the team travelled.

John had stayed behind after training for a one-on-one session with Terry Medwin who was making what eventually proved to be an unsuccessful attempt to get back to fitness after a dreadful multiple leg fracture. We were still there when John drove out from the car park. He stopped to chat too and we couldn't help laughing.

"Missing something?" we asked.

"Yes, I am," he said. "What do you know about it?"

"Going home in your shorts?"

He shook his head, grinning at us. "Cliff!

We feigned innocence and ignorance but he knew we knew that he knew!

"I'm off to play a round," he told us. "I'll get him later!"

"See you tomorrow," we said. But of course, we never saw him again.

He nodded, grinned and waved goodbye to us as he drove home to his wife Sandra and baby son and toddler daughter.

We hung around with some of the youth team and eventually sat on the library bench opposite the ground with cold drinks bought from George's Cafe (now long gone). It was too hot to do anything other than laze around and it just got hotter and stickier.

There was a sudden flash of lightning and a tremendous crash of thunder and the ground literally shook beneath our feet. Torrential rain followed and we fled across the road to the cafe for shelter and made our respective ways home when the rain stopped.

It wasn't until the 6 pm news that I knew that John had been killed by lightning on Crews Hill Golf Course where he had sheltered from that sudden storm beneath a tree, holding his golf umbrella. I got on a bus to my friend's house immediately, holding back tears and hearing people on the bus discussing what had happened - everyone was shocked and no-one more so than I was, numbed with a feeling of disbelief. My friend and I cried in each other's arms.

The next morning at the Lane, players and supporters huddled in small groups tearful and talking in whispers about what had happened. Cars going by in the High Road slowed down or stopped in respect. The youth team players agreed with us that the thunder and lightning we had experienced would very likely have been the one that killed John as the timing was right and we learned from other players that Sandra had not wanted John to play golf but to go shopping with her and that other players who had been invited to play golf with him that day were unable or unwilling to do so. Had someone been there at the time, he might have been saved but he was alone and it was some hours before he was found.

Danny Blanchflower, in his newspaper column that weekend, mentioned that my friend and I had been there at the WHL gates on the following day, saddened and shocked along with the players.

Cliff was utterly heartbroken when he got the news. Joan hid John's trousers in a wardrobe where I believe they stayed for some time.

I paid my last respects at John's funeral but the 21st July is a day etched in my memory and as clear now as it was then and I think of John often, not just on this date. He was a wonderful, talented footballer as well as a lovely man with a grin that lit up his face and a cheeky and bright personality.

For Sandra, it was a double tragedy as her father and John's father-in-law Harry Evans, who was Bill Nicholson's assistant manager, had died from throat cancer only six months or so earlier.

I keep in touch with Rob White, a babe in arms when John died, and had a mention in the supplemental book he co-wrote about his father with Julie Welch.

I have wonderful memories of John on and off pitch. If there were kids around when he came out of the ground, he would do tricks with a half-crown or a golfball demonstrating his fantastic ball control. He would pull out his shirt breast pocket as his finale and the coin or ball would drop into it with ease. Sandra must have had a regular job sewing up the ripped pockets.

John had so much more to do and was close to reaching his peak as a footballer, more seasons with Spurs, more games for Scotland and bringing up his two children who were too young to remember him. For those of us privileged enough to have seen him play, we know just how good he was. He looked frail and fragile and there were those who doubted he would be strong enough to make the grade, but they were wrong. He had an amazing ability to read a game and disappear and pop up somewhere else (hence his nickname) finding spaces, both assisting and scoring goals himself and was certainly one of the best inside-forwards of his time.

When I first met Cliff Jones when I was about 12 years old, he asked me who my favourite player was, no doubt expecting me to say "You."

Without hesitation, I said it was John White which he grudgingly accepted as a good choice. I still miss John and always will and it's hard to believe it happened 50 years ago. To me, he will always be The Ghost of White Hart Lane.

If you had written twice as much it wouldn't have been enough. A lovely read, thankyou. I saw him play a few times, and was 13 when it happened. I think you had to watch him live to appreciate how he moved around the pitch always available. Hence "the ghost". I am often reminded of him when watching Tom Carroll, there is a very similar look about them both physically and in the style of play, and both only use their right foots for standing on! What do you think Cosmic?

 

[Kendall]

I watched Those Glory Glory Days the other day with the Mrs and it made me think of you, Carol.

I really enjoy your old stories from the Lane and about the old Spurs players. Something those of us born later will never get to experience, unless chatting to a drunk Aaron Lennon in the Oak in Headingley is the modern day equivalent.

 

[spursgirls]

Great post Carol. So interesting and poignant.

 

[CosmicHotspur]

If you had written twice as much it wouldn't have been enough. A lovely read, thankyou. I saw him play a few times, and was 13 when it happened. I think you had to watch him live to appreciate how he moved around the pitch always available. Hence "the ghost". I am often reminded of him when watching Tom Carroll, there is a very similar look about them both physically and in the style of play, and both only use their right foots for standing on! What do you think Cosmic?

Modric perhaps, always finding those elusive spaces to set up forward moves. Carroll has a long way to go tp be that good but I hope he'll make the grade.

 

[arunspurs]

I have heard stories about John White and how his untimely death coincided with the lesser fortunes of our club on field. I was told as a team, we were never the same after losing one of our star players.

In fact as everyone knows, we haven't won the league after his period;

Btw, that was great read

 

[CosmicHotspur]

I watched Those Glory Glory Days the other day with the Mrs and it made me think of you, Carol.

I really enjoy your old stories from the Lane and about the old Spurs players. Something those of us born later will never get to experience, unless chatting to a drunk Aaron Lennon in the Oak in Headingley is the modern day equivalent.

Julie Welch and I have had discussions about the film and there are definitely some similarities. Certainly, I was there at that time. Until Danny mentioned my friend and me in his Sunday column after the event, we had no idea he even knew we existed but obviously he did recognise regular supporters and friends of the players that he saw around the Lane and at Cheshunt. He even mentioned that John had been our favourite player. I wish I could get a copy of that Sunday paper.

 

[CosmicHotspur]

51 years... never forgotten.

 

[spursram]

Not sure if its mentioned above but Wiki states:
"With him Tottenham never finished worse than 4th in the First Division and in the 15 matches missed by White while on their books, Tottenham won only once."
That last stat says it all.

 

[HotspurFC1950]

Those were the days. Heavy heart for a few reasons.

 

[HotspurFC1950]

Not sure if its mentioned above but Wiki states:
"With him Tottenham never finished worse than 4th in the First Division and in the 15 matches missed by White while on their books, Tottenham won only once."
That last stat says it all.

Don't be fooled by statistics. Dave Mackay was the mainstay of that team broken legs aside.

 

[TheChosenOne]

I posted this a year ago on 21 July and rather than writing about such a painful memory and paying tribute again, I have revived it. I will be thinking about John and that fateful day all day tomorrow, not that I don't think of him regularly all through every year:

Please excuse this being such a long read, I hope you will think it worth it whether you remember John White or not.

It was 21 July 1964, I was 16, had left school and was enjoying the last long summer holidays before starting my first job in Fleet Street. My friend and I were spending as much time as we could in Cheshunt and at the Lane, watching Spurs train and mingling with them during their breaks and after training. We babysat for some of the players so knew them well and we hung out a lot with some of the youth team players of our own age.

On that day we went to the Lane as the players came out from the ground after some pitch training and stood around chatting with some of the players in the sun on what was an airless and sultry day.

One of the players for whom we babysat, Cliff Jones, still a great friend, drove out in his white mini. He was well known to be a notorious prankster and he pulled up and grinned at us and dangled a pair of trousers out of the car window.

"They're John's," he explained. "He'll be looking everywhere for them." He and John White were best mates, always sharing a hotel room when the team travelled.

John had stayed behind after training for a one-on-one session with Terry Medwin who was making what eventually proved to be an unsuccessful attempt to get back to fitness after a dreadful multiple leg fracture. We were still there when John drove out from the car park. He stopped to chat too and we couldn't help laughing.

"Missing something?" we asked.

"Yes, I am," he said. "What do you know about it?"

"Going home in your shorts?"

He shook his head, grinning at us. "Cliff!

We feigned innocence and ignorance but he knew we knew that he knew!

"I'm off to play a round," he told us. "I'll get him later!"

"See you tomorrow," we said. But of course, we never saw him again.

He nodded, grinned and waved goodbye to us as he drove home to his wife Sandra and baby son and toddler daughter.

We hung around with some of the youth team and eventually sat on the library bench opposite the ground with cold drinks bought from George's Cafe (now long gone). It was too hot to do anything other than laze around and it just got hotter and stickier.

There was a sudden flash of lightning and a tremendous crash of thunder and the ground literally shook beneath our feet. Torrential rain followed and we fled across the road to the cafe for shelter and made our respective ways home when the rain stopped.

It wasn't until the 6 pm news that I knew that John had been killed by lightning on Crews Hill Golf Course where he had sheltered from that sudden storm beneath a tree, holding his golf umbrella. I got on a bus to my friend's house immediately, holding back tears and hearing people on the bus discussing what had happened - everyone was shocked and no-one more so than I was, numbed with a feeling of disbelief. My friend and I cried in each other's arms.

The next morning at the Lane, players and supporters huddled in small groups tearful and talking in whispers about what had happened. Cars going by in the High Road slowed down or stopped in respect. The youth team players agreed with us that the thunder and lightning we had experienced would very likely have been the one that killed John as the timing was right and we learned from other players that Sandra had not wanted John to play golf but to go shopping with her and that other players who had been invited to play golf with him that day were unable or unwilling to do so. Had someone been there at the time, he might have been saved but he was alone and it was some hours before he was found.

Danny Blanchflower, in his newspaper column that weekend, mentioned that my friend and I had been there at the WHL gates on the following day, saddened and shocked along with the players.

Cliff was utterly heartbroken when he got the news. Joan hid John's trousers in a wardrobe where I believe they stayed for some time.

I paid my last respects at John's funeral but the 21st July is a day etched in my memory and as clear now as it was then and I think of John often, not just on this date. He was a wonderful, talented footballer as well as a lovely man with a grin that lit up his face and a cheeky and bright personality.

For Sandra, it was a double tragedy as her father and John's father-in-law Harry Evans, who was Bill Nicholson's assistant manager, had died from throat cancer only six months or so earlier.

I keep in touch with Rob White, a babe in arms when John died, and had a mention in the supplemental book he co-wrote about his father with Julie Welch.

I have wonderful memories of John on and off pitch. If there were kids around when he came out of the ground, he would do tricks with a half-crown or a golfball demonstrating his fantastic ball control. He would pull out his shirt breast pocket as his finale and the coin or ball would drop into it with ease. Sandra must have had a regular job sewing up the ripped pockets.

John had so much more to do and was close to reaching his peak as a footballer, more seasons with Spurs, more games for Scotland and bringing up his two children who were too young to remember him. For those of us privileged enough to have seen him play, we know just how good he was. He looked frail and fragile and there were those who doubted he would be strong enough to make the grade, but they were wrong. He had an amazing ability to read a game and disappear and pop up somewhere else (hence his nickname) finding spaces, both assisting and scoring goals himself and was certainly one of the best inside-forwards of his time.

When I first met Cliff Jones when I was about 12 years old, he asked me who my favourite player was, no doubt expecting me to say "You."

Without hesitation, I said it was John White which he grudgingly accepted as a good choice. I still miss John and always will and it's hard to believe it happened 50 years ago. To me, he will always be The Ghost of White Hart Lane.

Just a bit late on this, I was on my school holidays in Ireland when I heard the sad news.

Strangely enough I am sitting on a ferry in Fishguard waiting to sail across the Celtic Sea to Ireland. I gave a mental wave to you Carol when I was passing along the M40/A40 and saw the sign for B.Port.

 

[kursaal]

So poignant. Thank you for sharing the memories. A truly insightful and moving account of such a wonderful player,

 

[spursram]

Don't be fooled by statistics. Dave Mackay was the mainstay of that team broken legs aside.

You may not have noticed but this thread is recalling memories of John White, its not about which was the best player in the team at that time. The statistic of winning one game in the 15 he missed was worth pointing out IMO. Its a statistic relevant to him and this thread and doesn't mean he was, or was not, the mainstay of the team. Why would you think that?

 

[CosmicHotspur]

John's son Rob gave me permission to display this some time ago. Thursday, 8 October 1959 was a very significant day in Spurs history.

I feel privileged to have seen him play and to have known him. Like all footballers, he had some bad games and the moans about him not being physically strong enough, etc. etc. would ring around the terraces. He made wonderful progress and for those of us who understood the finer points of the game, it soon became obvious that his incredibly delicate ball control, his reading of the game and precision pinpoint link play were something very special.

I have many precious memories of him, not least the corner he took that had the perfect curve on it and landed in the top corner of the net with the goalie not having the merest hint of where it was going.

His strengths were in his intelligence on the pitch, the speed and natural running ability which alowed him to find those spaces and his stamina and endurance, not in a more obvious muscular physicality. Watch some old footage on YouTube if you never saw him play and you may begin to understand. Even if you did see him play, it's well worth watching him again.

 

[HotspurFC1950]

I actually love you Carol. In the sense that you represent a time in my life when I was "lost" if you like.

John White is more famous as legend than he was at the time.

He was in the shadow of Blanchflower, Mackay, Jones etc and we will never know where John White would have ended up in true Spurs folklore.

God rest his soul but I as a fan was never happy with John Whites reaction to Jimmy Greaves arrival.