Most of us may think of legends and myths belonging to a time when knights rode mane-tossing stallions and
plotting dignitaries in tights stalked gloomy castle corridors.
Maybe we think of heroic Greek warriors attaining a lady's hand whilst fighting off a brute with a single eye or a
wild west gunslinger speeding across a midnight desert with vengeance on his mind.
But real life isn't always like that.
In an area of the struggling city of 1954 Glasgow, Scotland, the children of the Gorbals neighbourhood found
that mythical monsters can prowl in any century and in the best traditions of heroes, the horror must be bested.
The Gorbals Vampire.
It started in the schoolyard, a silly comment meant to impress one's companion or even the girl who smiled from
across the classroom, but like any eager sugary tittle-tattle, it spread like a Covid in a Retirement Home.
Iron-teeth he held between his powerful jaws, a seven-foot tall vampire spending the daytime hours slumbering in
the nearby graveyard known as Necropolis cemetery. Embroidery of the rumour became the name-of-the-game
and as the information was passed on through the kids and after school, to their brothers and sisters, the vampire
became fiercer and the narration of those metal teeth intensified into gleaming razors that thirsted for young blood.
But what was to be done...? It seemed that the adults had ignored this night-beast and as older boys buttoned-up
the hand-me-down coat of their your brothers, thoughts of putting the vampire to the sword nibbled at their consciences
and played on their adolescent fears.
Yet, harmed with sticks, knives taken from kitchen drawers, homemade stakes and even the faithful dog, the young boys
left their homes and with toddlers holding their hands, they set out for the hunting ground.
Except... real life doesn't work that way and by the time Constable Alex Deeprose responded to the news of a disturbance
in the Necropolis Kirkyard, it wasn't just kids searching for the iron-toothed vampire.
Tam Smith -one of the would-be night-crawler hunters was a seven-year-old schoolboy at the time.
He recalled the scene in a newspaper interview:
“The walls were lined with people. We ventured through the gatehouse and there were loads of kids
in there, some wandering around, some sitting on the walls.
There were a lot of dogs too, and mums and dads with kids.
“We found a place to stand out of the way because there were so many people there.
I think the whole of the Gorbals was in that graveyard. It’s hard to put an estimate on the number of
people.”
So what had caused these grown-ups and their young 'uns to venture out on 23rd September 1954 and seek the
monster in their midst? Ronnie Sanderson was an eight-year-old at the time and explained:
“It all started in the playground - the word was there was a vampire and everyone was going to head
out there after school. At three o’clock the school emptied and everyone made a beeline for it.
We sat there for ages on the wall waiting and waiting. I wouldn’t go in because it was a bit scary for me.”
“I think somebody saw someone wandering about and the cry went up: ‘There’s the vampire!’
That was it - that was the word to get off that wall quick and get away from it.”
“I just remember scampering home to my mother: ‘What’s the matter with you?’ ‘I’ve seen a vampire!’
and I got a clout round the ear for my trouble. I didn’t really know what a vampire was.”
With P.C Deeprose taking charge and dispersing the multitude of frolicking youngsters -whilst no doubt,
chiding the adults for their ignorance, he declared the hunt was over and possibly hoped the incident would
fade away.
![[Image: attachment.php?aid=8583]](http://rogue-nation3.com/attachment.php?aid=8583)
Then and now, the intrepid Vampire Hunters.
But it didn't and at a time when the newly-published 'Lord of The Rings' would never reach the imaginations
of the working-class area of Glasgow and the still British Prime Minister Winston Churchill turned eighty years-old,
the newspapers were happy to make a local story global.
The prudish and the Press suggested imported American horror comics were the cause of the scare, but academics
pointed to a quote in the Bible (Daniel 7.7):
“Behold a fourth beast, dreadful and terrible, and strong exceedingly; and it had great iron teeth”
Others suggested the children may also have been inspired by Alexander Anderson's Scottish poem
‘Jenny wi’ the Iron Teeth, an old woman said to haunt Glasgow Green in the early 19th century.
The 'panic' raged for a couple of weeks until once more, the Gorbals dropped from the limelight and
the gates of the Necropolis cemetery creaked closed again.
But the Vampire wasn't slain.
plotting dignitaries in tights stalked gloomy castle corridors.
Maybe we think of heroic Greek warriors attaining a lady's hand whilst fighting off a brute with a single eye or a
wild west gunslinger speeding across a midnight desert with vengeance on his mind.
But real life isn't always like that.
In an area of the struggling city of 1954 Glasgow, Scotland, the children of the Gorbals neighbourhood found
that mythical monsters can prowl in any century and in the best traditions of heroes, the horror must be bested.
The Gorbals Vampire.
It started in the schoolyard, a silly comment meant to impress one's companion or even the girl who smiled from
across the classroom, but like any eager sugary tittle-tattle, it spread like a Covid in a Retirement Home.
Iron-teeth he held between his powerful jaws, a seven-foot tall vampire spending the daytime hours slumbering in
the nearby graveyard known as Necropolis cemetery. Embroidery of the rumour became the name-of-the-game
and as the information was passed on through the kids and after school, to their brothers and sisters, the vampire
became fiercer and the narration of those metal teeth intensified into gleaming razors that thirsted for young blood.
But what was to be done...? It seemed that the adults had ignored this night-beast and as older boys buttoned-up
the hand-me-down coat of their your brothers, thoughts of putting the vampire to the sword nibbled at their consciences
and played on their adolescent fears.
Yet, harmed with sticks, knives taken from kitchen drawers, homemade stakes and even the faithful dog, the young boys
left their homes and with toddlers holding their hands, they set out for the hunting ground.
Except... real life doesn't work that way and by the time Constable Alex Deeprose responded to the news of a disturbance
in the Necropolis Kirkyard, it wasn't just kids searching for the iron-toothed vampire.
Tam Smith -one of the would-be night-crawler hunters was a seven-year-old schoolboy at the time.
He recalled the scene in a newspaper interview:
“The walls were lined with people. We ventured through the gatehouse and there were loads of kids
in there, some wandering around, some sitting on the walls.
There were a lot of dogs too, and mums and dads with kids.
“We found a place to stand out of the way because there were so many people there.
I think the whole of the Gorbals was in that graveyard. It’s hard to put an estimate on the number of
people.”
So what had caused these grown-ups and their young 'uns to venture out on 23rd September 1954 and seek the
monster in their midst? Ronnie Sanderson was an eight-year-old at the time and explained:
“It all started in the playground - the word was there was a vampire and everyone was going to head
out there after school. At three o’clock the school emptied and everyone made a beeline for it.
We sat there for ages on the wall waiting and waiting. I wouldn’t go in because it was a bit scary for me.”
“I think somebody saw someone wandering about and the cry went up: ‘There’s the vampire!’
That was it - that was the word to get off that wall quick and get away from it.”
“I just remember scampering home to my mother: ‘What’s the matter with you?’ ‘I’ve seen a vampire!’
and I got a clout round the ear for my trouble. I didn’t really know what a vampire was.”
With P.C Deeprose taking charge and dispersing the multitude of frolicking youngsters -whilst no doubt,
chiding the adults for their ignorance, he declared the hunt was over and possibly hoped the incident would
fade away.
Then and now, the intrepid Vampire Hunters.
But it didn't and at a time when the newly-published 'Lord of The Rings' would never reach the imaginations
of the working-class area of Glasgow and the still British Prime Minister Winston Churchill turned eighty years-old,
the newspapers were happy to make a local story global.
The prudish and the Press suggested imported American horror comics were the cause of the scare, but academics
pointed to a quote in the Bible (Daniel 7.7):
“Behold a fourth beast, dreadful and terrible, and strong exceedingly; and it had great iron teeth”
Others suggested the children may also have been inspired by Alexander Anderson's Scottish poem
‘Jenny wi’ the Iron Teeth, an old woman said to haunt Glasgow Green in the early 19th century.
The 'panic' raged for a couple of weeks until once more, the Gorbals dropped from the limelight and
the gates of the Necropolis cemetery creaked closed again.
But the Vampire wasn't slain.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.