Taken from the current issue of Classic Racer
Dennis Jones - A personal tribute
Many of us have marvelled at the creations of the late Dennis Jones, but few know much about the genius behind the mechanical marvels. In a personal tribute, Denny’s niece, Trish Bole, tells the story.
Denny was not just a great engineer he was a handy rider too as he illustrates on a Norton Inter.
Denny was born an identical twin, on 12 August 1915 in Derby, the ‘glorious twelfth’ as he called it, in reference to the shooting season. But 1915 would have been far from a glorious year, as WWI had begun one year earlier.
His mother, Ethel Jones (nee Walters), a wonderful woman of just 4ft 10in, often said her abiding memory of Denny and his twin Glyn (my father) was their love of playing with metal objects which soon grew into a passion for anything on wheels.
The twins' first effort was at the age of 12, when they made a truck out of an old iron bedstead fitted with a two-stroke engine. They then went on to build a roadworthy motor scooter before the age of 16. Remember that there was no driving test or speed limit before 1934.
Denny attended school in Long Eaton while living with his parents, Ethel and Orlando and brothers Glyn (twin), elder brother Cyril and younger brother Harry. Sadly, their father died when the twins were just 17 and Harry died at the age of only 14.
Denny documents that his first ride was ‘on the tank of a Rudge Whitworth with my elder brother driving and twin bro on the back luggage rack’. When he was 12 he bought a single speed Levis, belt drive, for 10 shillings (50 pence) and ‘rode it around my grandfather’s garden through the trees in the orchard’. His grandfather, Samuel Walters lived in Heacham, Norfolk, and loved his garden and was locally famous for being the oldest gardener in England, as he still maintained it at 96. In his life he obtained the OBE for his work designing a railway engine.
In April 1930 Denny’s twin brother, Glyn, joined Rolls-Royce as an errand boy at five shillings a week; he would have been 14. Although Rolls-Royce have no longer got Denny’s records, it is likely that he joined at the same time. Denny did his apprenticeship at Rolls-Royce and carried on working there (as did Glyn) throughout WWII becoming one of their top engineers/designers.
Denny continued to develop his interest in motorcycles, buying (again with Glyn) a 300cc SV Federation/JAP belt drive, when he was 16, so they could travel to Derby. According to my father’s records Denny first raced when he was 20, at Donington Park on 22 April 1935.
Denny was normally very cheerful and outward going, but just like his brother (my father) he could have a temper on him. My mother used to comment that this was ‘their Welsh paddy’. Denny’s father was Welsh and his grandparents came from a small farming community in a place called Llanarmon Dyffryn Ceiriog. (Interestingly a nearby village is called Glyn Ceiriog – my father’s name. I will never know why one twin was called after a Welsh village and the other twin was called Dennis! If Denny was angry it was best to keep out of his way.
The first creation that I remember was a wonderful scooter that Uncle Denny made for me. The frame was made of tubular steel and painted red and blue and the footplate was a piece of varnished wood. The best part of all was the wheels, they had proper blow-up tyres. I was definitely the envy of all the other children in my street.
I remember on one occasion trying to impress Uncle Denny, as he was busy testing out the engine on his latest creation, in his back garden. I was about 10 and with a friend we started chasing around the lawn making, what we thought, were passable motorbike noises. Denny was pressing the throttle down hard on his bike and making a real din, so I didn’t think he could hear us or had even noticed. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and angrily told us to ‘pipe down’ as he couldn’t hear the noise of the engine properly!
As a child I spent plenty of time in his workshops behind his house standing on the wooden slatted floor, as shards of metal fell down between the gaps, the smell of cutting oil pervading the air. Denny in brown overalls and hands covered in grease, busy making an intricate part for his latest creation.
Sometimes we would all drive to Mallory Park, Cadwell or Donington to watch Uncle Denny race, and I felt proud that we could wander around the paddock when other ‘lesser mortals’ had to stay on the other side of the barriers...
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