Thomas Baron Pitfield
Thomas Pitfield, composer, teacher, poet and artist was born in the Lancashire cotton town of Bolton, on the 5th of April 1903. His birthplace has since been demolished, but it was located on Bury New Road, near Bolton town centre. Tom’s elderly parents were not overjoyed by his unexpected arrival, and the young boy’s artistic talents were never compatible with their strict, austere, Victorian lifestyle. Pitfield Senior was a master joiner and builder in his father-in-law’s business. His wife was a dressmaker, having trained at Manchester College of Technology. She was particularly frustrated by the birth of a child, as she had built up a good business and it meant an end to her career.
The unusual middle name ‘Baron’ was his grandmother's maiden name. The pseudo-title often caused confusion. Tom wrote in the introduction to his first volume of autobiography:
‘Thomas Baron Pitfield is my name:
To eminence or rank I have no claim,
(So in address my middle name's not vital -
Merely a Christian name and not a title).’
His first school was Ridgeways Endowed Church of England Primary School. Although he went to church at ‘pistol point’, he sang as a choirboy in the church and had a ‘moderate baritone’ voice. Then he attended the municipal secondary, leaving illegally after one year only. The headmaster was furious with him, but it was his parents’ decision. They had struggled with him since early childhood about his determination to be an artist, considering his strict vegetarianism and unhealthy antipathy to ballroom dancing to be very strange. His preference for long solitary walks in the countryside and lack of business acumen, left them baffled.
His passion for art began at the age of 6. Visiting his mother’s aunt in Ainsworth, on the bus, he would try to draw trees on the back of his father’s time sheets, which he had taken when his father wasn’t looking. His father felt ‘art’ was not a suitable occupation and that Tom would never make a living at it. His mother’s opposition was even stronger. Although she played piano herself, when Tom came home from his first day at school, having learnt hymn ‘O God our help in ages past’, and picked it up on the piano straight away, adding a left hand part, she did not recognise his musical gift. His older brother also played, and taught Tom his favourite music hall songs, so he could accompany his singing. However his greatest pleasure was improvising accompaniments to a book of ‘Two Hundred and Twenty-One Scottish Songs’, which had somehow found its way into the family home.
Inheriting his father’s craftwork skills, he made his own toys from age 7, including a toy-theatre, which he built from scraps of wood and nails. His father’s joiners taught him woodcraft, keeping it secret from his parents. They did not want him to go into the family business, so they eventually reached a compromise and agreed to send him to Technical College to be handicraft teacher. His parents had never really wanted him to go to Technical College, so when a job vacancy came up with an engineering company, where his father’s friend was a senior draughtsman, they ‘forced’ Tom to take the apprenticeship. They also took Tom to have ‘his bumps read’ by a phrenologist, who confirmed their choice of career. This was the beginning of ‘seven and half years misery’ at Hick Hargreaves. He would have preferred woodwork to engineering but his father’s word was final and binding.
His new job involved holding the draughtsmen’s tape while they measured and finding old drawings that were wanted for reference. When they discovered Tom could do lettering, as his uncle, a master printer, had given him a book of printer’s samples, from which he taught himself lettering skills, he was put to translating technical drawings for non-professionals. He became a specialist in flywheels, and from age 19 found self employment at many cotton mills across Lancashire, making designs for transmission machinery, many of which still survive.
On his travels across the county, he made paintings of railway engines and sketched nature scenes on the Pennine moors, inspired by the leafless branches and gnarled boles of the moorland trees. The Jumbles, Turton, Barrow Bridge, Belmont and Rivington were cherished places for walks and sketching. The need to escape into nature and the countryside would stay with him all his life.
He also attended evening classes three nights a week and took lessons in piano and harmony from a local organist W J Lancaster, who gave him much encouragement. Lancaster introduced him to Eric Fogg of the BBC in Manchester and Stephanie Baker, a leading contralto with the Hallé choir. They were to inspire his later decision to further his musical training and after buying a cello, he made his first attempts at composition.
Summer holidays with the family on the Isle of Man and alone in the Lake District and in the village of Prees in Shropshire, provided some quiet and inspired moments to compose, write and draw. These holidays were organised and taken against parental approval, but they helped Pitfield to make the decision to change his life. His parents were horrified by his ‘declaration of independence.’ At 21, having finished his apprenticeship, he left engineering. He sold his engineering instruments and equipment and, with his shilling a week savings, he bought a year of lessons at the Royal Manchester College of Music. In 1924, he enrolled and studied harmony and counterpoint, piano and cello.
Pitfield had no money for buses, walking from Salford Station to the College and back each night. He often went without meals and got by drinking water from the College tap. Practising up to 14 hours a day, he was determined to become a composer, although he did not know how a composer made his living. His cello teacher was Carl Fuchs, ‘a first rate teacher’ but his composition teacher Thomas Keighley, was notoriously ineffective. He taught conventional harmonisation of melodies from his own textbooks, which his students had to purchase from him directly. After Pitfield presented him with 25 piano pieces, which he had composed, Keighley flippantly remarked ‘carry on, on the same lines’.
For the first time in his life, he heard symphonic music, live orchestral and chamber music concerts. His entire influence until now had been sixpenny book of tunes for 221 Scottish songs. He would play them and improvise his own piano accompaniments. In 1925, he won a composition prize for some Shakespeare settings and was awarded three guineas at a College diploma day. The success was somewhat muted by the fact that his was the only entry. Pitfield himself had begun writing poetry in the style of the Shakespeare sonnets, which he would later use for his songs.
The College did not know how to prepare him as a composer. He completed the year’s course but, when he applied for a scholarship to continue his studies, he was rejected because he was ‘too old’ and advised to give up his musical ambitions. Luckily he refused to give up and managed to obtain private lessons at reduced fees. He raised this money by getting various jobs as a pianist and giving private lessons. Pitfield’s disappointment was expressed in his own 'auto-obituary' *
* : the College had taught him 'the vital spatial relationship between middle C and the key-hole of the piano, and how to make a low purring sound on the cello'.
He would always consider himself as self-taught in composition, yet recognised the help and encouragement he received from Eric Fogg. Tom took a few lessons from Fogg and his cellist wife, Kathleen, who also took him to meetings at the Manchester Contemporary Music Centre. He also attended rehearsals of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, where he met Michael Tippett, Malcolm Sargent and the Sitwells. He felt the Liverpool was his real cultural centre and was most pleased that over the next 20 years the Philharmonic would occasionally include his work in their performances.
He now tried a freelance career as a piano and cello teacher, church organist and performer in local orchestras and chamber groups, in addition to writing concert reviews for a local newspaper. He was still living at home, in Bolton and his father, being a little more sympathetic than his mother, provided him with a new piano. He even came to hear his son give a recital on one occasion. Tom took pupils for piano and cello; they were nearly all either cotton workers or coal miners. Half of them were out of work and gradually they stopped coming.
He struggled for seven years without a regular income, even with three commissions for ballet music from a company in Liverpool. Among his rare musical commissions, Tom was asked to compose incidental music for local Shakespearian productions and became the musical director of the local Shakespeare Society. Using his drawings and poems he produced calendars and sent volumes to editors and publishers.
It was during this time that he met his ‘wife-to-be’, Alice Astbury, at chamber music groups and rehearsals. He had joined a local group, who called themselves ‘The Circle’, which met fortnightly on Saturday evenings. Alice and her friend Nancy Archer had been school friends and had studied together at the Royal Manchester School of Music. The group would also read poetry and plays and present evenings at the Astbury’s home.
Alice was born in Russia of English parents. Russian had been her first language as a child. Her father was the manager of a cotton mill outside Moscow, when they found themselves caught up in the Russian Revolution of 1917 and the family had to brave German sub-marines to escape from Archangel to Aberdeen on a troop-ship. Alice wrote the story of her Russian childhood for a BBC broadcast in 1950. Her family had been quite affluent and comfortable. They now found themselves in very reduced circumstances and the burden of providing for the family in a time of high unemployment fell on Alice’s shoulders. Her mother was an invalid and Alice nursed her, in addition to doing all the washing, cleaning, cooking, looking after a lodger, teaching piano and sewing for basic sweated labour pay.
Tom’s mother’s health deteriorated after his father’s death in 1928. She became increasingly reliant on Tom and her doctrine of the 'Godliness of Misery', made his life increasingly unbearable. She lacked any sympathy for his struggles and could never understand why, if he were such a promising artist, that he continued to paint, when he had a drawer full of unsold paintings. The tension between them grew as she continually criticized and reproached him about his work. On one occasion she reduced him to tears, when he nearly lost control of his temper. Other relatives were drawn into her severe reprimands of his ‘queer’ behaviour.
To escape from this now intolerable situation, he was determined to gain a teaching qualification. His year’s study at the Royal Manchester College of Music had not given him any qualifications. In 1931, he sat the entrance exam and won a scholarship at Bolton School of Art. Until 1934, he trained as a teacher of art and cabinetwork. He was already very skilled in woodwork and was considered a brilliant student, from his reports. Attending full-time, he went to every class he could. He received a commission to make large portrait posters of the local Labour candidates for a General Election and enjoyed the horror this elicited from his staunch Conservative mother and relatives. They even sent a ‘missionary’ canvasser to convert him back to ‘the faith’, which ultimately backfired as the canvasser later joined the Labour Party! His mother accused him of ‘selling his vote’ for his art.
The only academic qualification Pitfield was ever awarded was in Art. His student flower paintings, life studies, exercises in symbolism, heraldry, and Gothic architecture, and furniture designs, are held in the Pitfield Archive at the RNCM. After qualifying as a teacher, he took various teaching posts in Lancashire and the West Midlands. In one ‘small Pennine town’ his experience, at a run-down school with hooligan students, nearly ended his teaching career before it began. The constant conflict and threat of violence exhausted him but this post was mercifully short, as he left before the end of his second term, after which the school was closed down. Pitfield took a restful holiday in the Ribble Valley to recover.
After many struggles trying to find employment in the North, he was offered a job with the Council for Social Services in Wolverhampton, as a tutor of handicrafts to 500 unemployed men, designing elaborate and colourful rugs and teaching woodwork. A few of the men genuinely benefited by tapping into unknown talents but more than half the men were ‘derelicts’ and the conditions were appalling. The expectation of the Council far exceeded the resources provided and the abilities of the men. Although he was paid £2.10 a week, for mornings only, when they wanted him to go full-time, he resigned as it would have meant giving up his music. He then managed to get some part-time work as an art teacher in various towns, which kept his finances buoyant.
After a seven-year engagement, he married in the teeth of his mother’s opposition, on the 26th of December 1934 at Bank Street Unitarian Chapel in Bolton and spent a short honeymoon in the Ribble Valley. When Pitfield’s financial prospects began to improve Alice came to live with him in Wolverhampton. They made arrangements for her mother to live close by, so that Alice could look after her, and when her mother died they moved to a small place in the countryside. With the advent of war, the teaching work dried up, although he began to receive occasional royalties for performances of his work and by now, he had several pieces of work published, he decided to approach a public school Tettenhall College in Staffordshire, for a post as music and art master. The headmaster suggested he come at first as a supply teacher for three hours a week. His wife was later employed as piano mistress and together they bicycled the three miles to college daily.
Tettenhall College was originally a Congregational Methodist school, but the headmaster was a very liberal man and opened the school to other denominations. Every Sunday he brought in preachers from different denominations and Pitfield was asked to provide the music for the service of each denomination. In the build up to World War Two, Pitfield, as a committed pacifist, joined the Peace Pledge Union. He composed a Patriot's Hymn of Peace, which the members of the union preferred to Britten and Duncan’s. When war was declared, he published it himself, using his own manuscript, calligraphy and a pastoral woodcut for the cover decoration. Most schools had a ban on employing pacifists and conscientious objectors, but fortunately the headmaster of the college shared Tom’s beliefs and he kept his post.
Despite being in a reserved occupation, he registered as a conscientious objector and asked for a tribunal hearing in Birmingham, sending them a lengthy and clearly argued account of his pacifist beliefs. He also told them he was a vegetarian on humanitarian grounds. The tribunal were really very accommodating and interested in his views.
He had been suffering for several years with Meniere’s Disease, which meant he was unable to climb even two rungs of a ladder and they would have rejected him for active service on these grounds, but he insisted they reject him on conscience grounds. They allowed him to continue to do educational work but then called him into the fire service, in spite of his inability to climb ladders. This idea was quickly dropped when his records were checked.
His teaching hours were now extended and he began to struggle with the commitment involved and the politics of the college. It became a miserable place and he felt less appreciated as time went on. Being there full-time allowed little escape from the daily routine. During this time, he was offered a few music commissions from the Ministry of Information, but turned them down, as they did not promote pacifism or reconciliation. He joined the Composer’s Guild, which had been introduced by Alan Bush, and later became its northern representative for about six years. This provided him many opportunities to meet his contemporaries at meetings.
In 1945 he was invited by the Principal R J Forbes, to join the staff of the Royal Manchester College of Music as a teacher of composition one day a week. Pitfield really wanted to come back to the North and he and his wife gave up their posts at Tettenhall and started looking for a house. The College Council suddenly decided to withdraw the offer, as there was already a teacher of Composition, Richard Hall, who had family connections on the Council.
The Pitfields had to return to Wolverhampton. Tom got occasional freelance jobs and wrote articles for Country Life and other magazines. He was commissioned to write a book on versification, which he wrote and was paid for, but it was never published; and another commission for a book on Art teaching. He also took various teaching jobs at Schools of Art and compiled correspondence courses. Alice taught piano and Russian in three technical schools in Dudley and Wolverhampton.
One night, his luck changed. The President of The Royal Academy of Dancing was giving a lecture in Wolverhampton. At the last minute they were asked to accommodate him for the night at their home. The next morning he heard Tom playing the piano, preparing the service for the school and immediately offered him a job composing for the Royal Academy of Dancing. For his audition with Arnold Haskell, he composed improvisations for such famous dancers as Casarvana and Madam Genet and got the £1,000 a year job. The Academy requested a series of a hundred short piano pieces to be used in their newly instituted ballet examinations. His music was published in an album and recorded for HMV. The collection brought his name to the attention of a wide audience.
In 1947, he was considering moving to London, when the Royal Manchester College of Music renewed its invitation to join the staff. The principal really wanted him to come, as he didn’t care for the existing composition teacher who was, according to Pitfield, ‘a 12 toner…they write all the wrong notes’. Pitfield accepted the offer and moved to Macclesfield. The incumbent teacher tried to make things as uncomfortable as possible, but Tom stuck it out and the other teacher eventually left to return to the Ministry of the Church of England.
The principal, aware of Tom’s various artistic talents, invited him to give weekly lectures on a variety of subjects to broaden the students’ minds. These proved quite popular and students from the university also began to attend. The topics ranged from poetry to decorative arts and were later introduced as an examined ‘liberal studies’ course.
At about the same time as the RMCM offer, The Royal Academy accepted one of his tree studies for its annual exhibition, where it sold within the first few days. However, the academy treated him and his work with disdain and even lost some of his work. As an unknown artist they regarded him as insignificant, which made him feel angry at first but then more philosophical, as he realised this was not a unique experience.
Pitfield remained on the staff in Manchester, teaching composition for 26 years, until his retirement in 1973. He retired on his 70th birthday and the Principal, John Manduell, organised a farewell concert. He had seen the College become the ‘much more grandiose’ Royal Northern College of Music and his wide appreciation of music and generosity to his students, endeared him to many. For three weeks in every term, he was a music examiner but his gift as a teacher was that he guided rather than instructed, helping his students to fully realise their own potential.
Given his experience of the dismissive and unhelpful attitude of those with the means to help struggling artists, perhaps he would not have been surprised that the RNCM ignored all my requests for help and information in collating this article. Thanks to Tom’s three volumes of autobiography and his recording for the North West Sound Archive, I was able to find more than I needed. His best advice to all artists of any discipline still rings true:
‘anyone wanting to take up the arts professionally from similar beginnings to my own… unless he had considerable powers of resilience (an ability to get up again after having been knocked down, and without wasting temper and energy in shadow-boxing an invulnerable Goliath)… had better think again.’
He always kept manuscript paper at his bedside, to collect his ideas for songs and melodies. Comic Music Hall songs from his childhood memories inspired the composition of a suite for brass band: ‘Edwardian Fantasy’. He was very disappointed when Dunham Hall, with whom he had a long relationship and where he made many sketches and paintings, had Edwardian festival with a brass band, and would not let them play it for some unexplained reason.
He felt his music was instinctively English and enjoyed writing music for the community. This included an opera, which was planned for performance at Gawsworth Church but unfortunately had to be cancelled due to lack of local support.
The village of Gawsworth, its church, historic Hall, rectory and pools became a favourite haunt. He often set its beauty in verse and a song setting of one was commissioned by the late owner of the Hall. It is a wonderfully evocative poem set for contralto voice, which now hangs in the chapel at the Hall.
His sketchpad was always in his pocket wherever he went; he often jotted down musical ideas as the inspiration came to him. With his professional book binding skills, he made a book of his sketches from his travels. This began as a walking song with illustrations from every county in England, which he then illustrated with drawings made on his musical travels from the North of Scotland to Kent. During his 25 years as an examiner for the Associated Board, whenever he was staying in a hotel on examining trips, rather than wait to eat in the restaurant, he would get something snack on, from a shop and go out sketching.
In all his skills, ideas came thick and fast. Never a good salesman or promoter of his work, his expertise and interest was in the making of things and moving on to the next idea. He did most of the woodwork in his own home. Wood-carving was one of his life-long joys; from small sculptures of birds and animals, to woodcuts of peaceful rural scenes, decorated domestic furniture, and handmade percussion instruments. His original hand-bound copy of The Poetry of Trees, with carved-oak covers, enclosing a series of linocuts of trees with his own hand-calligraphed prose-poem descriptions, was published in 1944 by Knights Press.
Every Christmas, he made greetings cards with his beautiful drawings of local Lancashire or Cheshire scenery or buildings. They often contained his poems or dialect poetry, which were also published in his lifetime. The five-point pen he used for quickly drawing manuscript lines, in his hands became an invention for an alphabet on five lines, to create beautiful calligraphed music cover designs. His modesty and self-effacing humour belied his extraordinary gifts in so many artistic fields.
His music was printed by Augener and the Oxford University Press. Augener had published his ‘Trio for violin, cello and piano’ while he was at Art School, and had included it in a small series of concerts promoting works by ‘Young British Composers.’ OUP later published the work and it was performed in London, Manchester, Liverpool, Sydney, Capetown, Budapest and on the BBC. Hubert Foss, the music editor of OUP, arranged a meeting with Pitfield in Manchester's Midland Hotel and invited him to the first Hallé performance of Walton’s ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’. This meeting led to myriad commissions for book illustrations, verses, translations, cards and music cover designs. Many other well-known publishers, including Elkin, Lengnick, Curwen and Peters, commissioned cover designs from him.
His first ‘solo’ concert was given in Liverpool and organised by his friend Gordon Green, who played some of his piano pieces. The Australian pianist, Beatrice Tange, made the first gramophone recording of his work. ‘Prelude, minuet and Reel’ was produced by HMV in Sydney and was later re-released by Premium Music.
Following his retirement, he continued to compose prolifically, and wrote three volumes of autobiography: No Song, No Supper (1986), A Song after Supper (1990), and A Cotton Town Boyhood (1995). He moved to ‘Lesser Thorns’ in the village of Bowdon, Cheshire, and was a well-loved and esteemed member of the community. He painted a variety of local scenes, including 'portraits' of local houses, which were produced for sale in annual calendars, designed headed notepaper, concert posters, programmes and cards. Even when his eyesight was failing, he created witty and apposite limericks about his musical acquaintances. This included a rather apposite piece:
‘There was a composer called Tippett
Whose music was lithe – like a whippet;
His scores do not ban,
Just play what you can’
And what you can’t manage, just skip it.’
The RNCM published a selection of them, in 1995, with nonsense verse drawings and decorations. Other significant books include Words Without Songs (1951), poems with a preface by his friend Walter de la Mare, and Limusics (1985), forty limericks and linocuts with Pitfield's own calligraphy. Trafford Council commissioned an illustrated book, Recording A Region in 1987, which contains pen and wash drawings, poems and prose descriptions. His final book was Honeymoon (1998), with descriptions of incidents from holidays taken over some sixty years with Alice.
His output as a composer was enormous. There were few major works but numerous collections of short pieces, mostly written specifically for particular performers, or for particular local festivals and communities. Many of his compositions were influenced by the Lancashire and Cheshire landscapes, the birds, flora and fauna and the atmosphere of the nighttime.
His love of writing for the voice, either solo or in chorus, was most significant. His Shakespeare music included pieces for Merchant of Venice, Othello, and The Tempest. Shakespeare had provided his first inspirations and experience of English poetry. At age 14, he bought a battered copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets and lyrics at a bookstall, which became a constant companion for many years, during his apprenticeship.
His earlier work was influenced by the Scottish songs he had played as a child, and folk music, particularly English, French and Russian, introduced to him by Alice, which would influence him all his life. The composers he particularly admired included Vaughan Williams, Grainger, Delius, Debussy, Ravel and Couperin. Pitfield also enjoyed composing for unusual instruments and wrote solo works for accordion, clarsach, xylophone, and harmonica. He even invented and made his own instrument, the patterphone, which made rain-like sounds for especially composed pieces.
How much he actually wrote is difficult to assess, because he destroyed most of his early works. He made broadcasts with the BBC in Manchester of one or two short recitals of his works, and a performance of one of his cantatas, which needed the composer in the studio. He had never studied conducting, but took some lessons from Julius Harrison, so that he could conduct the broadcasts with the professional orchestra and an amateur choir.
For BBC Radio’s ‘Children’s Hour’ he wrote music for some of the plays and composed incidental music for professional theatre productions, including a ‘Desdemona Song’ for voice and celtic harp for the Library Theatre production of ‘Othello’ in 1962. This was his second setting of the ‘Willow Song’. The first dates from around 1950. The poetic qualities of the willow tree in Shakespeare’s metaphoric verse must have held a special attraction and inspiration for Pitfield. In this work it is as though he has set his love for trees to music.
The BBC also broadcasted his short community service, which Pitfield wrote in 1963. It required a black preacher and a woman preacher and although it was published, it was not popular. It was given only one other performance, at Ipswich Gaol. He recorded an interview with Kenneth Baker, who was delighted to receive a book of Pitfield’s limericks, which he claimed he quoted at every opportunity all over the country,
He knew Sir John Barbirolli very well, sharing his sense of humour. Barbirolli wished to commission a symphony from him, but Pitfield did not feel equal to the work. Instead he wrote a sinfonietta, which Barbirolli played with the Hallé. Pitfield attended the Hallé rehearsals in an old warehouse after the Free Trade Hall was damaged in War. The work was performed in Manchester and Sweden. He also wrote a work for each member of Lady Barbirolli’s chamber group and for the group as a whole, which were broadcast.
Alan Rawsthorne was also a personal friend. He started college a year after Pitfield but he met him at college meetings after class. Rawsthorne was a member of the Composer’s Guild. Pitfield remembered him as a charming man with a Wilde-like ‘balloon burster’ wit. He knew Britten and Pears well and saw them talking to Kathleen Ferrier at the Cheltenham Festival. He always wished he’d met her but at the time, he felt awkward and didn’t like to interrupt.
For his 75th birthday the BBC and the Hallé presented performances of his work and three public libraries gave exhibitions of his artwork and manuscripts. Tom was particularly touched by this celebration and he and his wife Alice enjoyed the round of public appearances. He felt very appreciated by the local community.
For his 80th birthday the BBC Philharmonic broadcast a performance of his ‘Ruminations’ for string orchestra and piano, and a recital of his work was given at Eddisbury Hall near Macclesfield, performed by many of his former RNCM students. There was also an exhibition of his art works and a celebration supper provided by the owners of the Hall. Granada TV also made a biographical film about his work as artist, scribe and composer, which features his ‘Trio’ for flute, oboe and piano and showed him at working at home, painting outdoors at Dunham Park and re-visiting the millwright’s workshop at Hick Hargreaves in Bolton.
Thomas Pitfield died in Bowden, Cheshire on Armistice Day, the 11th of November 1999, aged ninety-six. How appropriate for a life-long pacifist.
This wonderful prolific artist and much-loved man, has left an enduring memory in his music, poems, drawings, paintings and craftwork, as well as in the hearts of every one whose life he touched. His sketchbooks, which he kept all his life, filled with his sketches, cartoons, poems, limericks, designs, intertwined calligraphed initials, new tunes and birdsong fragments, provide his most enduring testament.
by Helena Kean
©H Kean
* Pitfield wrote his auto-obituary for a commission for the editor of Bolton’s evening newspaper. It was paid for but never printed.
Bibliography
‘Tom Pitfield’ North West Sound Archive Clitheroe Castle 27897
‘No Song, No Supper’ - Autobiography Thomas B Pitfield Thames 1986
‘A Song After Supper’ - Autobiography Thomas B Pitfield Thames 1990
‘A Cotton Town Boyhood’ - Autobiography Thomas B Pitfield Kall Kwik Printing 1993
‘An Extraordinary Performance’ D Hinnells OUP 1998
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