Meeting Cardiff's own Ebeneezer scrooge

 

When I was a young girl, I knew Clare street in Riverside well.

This was where my uncle had his corner shop there which I visited often with my dad.

As much as I felt happy going to my uncles’ shop, I also made sure to turn my back to the creepy "Scream House" that loomed in front of the shop.

 A house that was boarded up with all sorts of slogans displayed  on wooden boards covering its windows and doors.

It was the painted picture of the famous "Edvard Munsch" scream that terrified me the most. The gaping mouth widely screaming in despair gave me the chills. 

 It was obvious to me even as a child that the person living there must have been really angry and upset, but I never knew why?

Twenty years later an opportunity arrived that allowed me to meet the man behind "Scream House" and  find out what led him to live in permanent lock down. 

The man who had curated the house was Riverside resident Gerald Aiden Tobin.

An individual who had been denied the original housing grants he applied for in 1984 to turn his house into an eight-room bedsit. Because of change in law it caused a legal loophole and the original payment expected never came .

 So out of frustration he turned his house into a symbol of protest adding more grievances as time went on as he further clashed with the council.

The last story written about Aiden was produced 15 years ago by a local newspaper back in 2005.

This left me wondering what had happened to the man behind the house. Was he still alive? and if he was what had become of him.

After a month of frantically searching, knocking on his front door and then finally sending a letter via recorded delivery he called me.

I arranged a date to visit him. 

Nervously I went that morning to see Aiden. I had pictured in my mind that he would be an old man on a walking stick, haggard looking with an unkempt hair and long beard.

I was astonished when I first saw him. He was a thin man of medium height, clean shaven, and dressed cleanly wearing a beanie hat with a walking stick.

He led me round the back entrance of his house, since the front door was bolted shut. As we walked he couldn’t stop discussing the unfair charges by the council. He kept jabbering with excitement at the thought he may get justice.

He described how he, his parents and his five siblings from Ireland had arrived in Cardiff and bought the house. He described how it held treasured memories of his family.  

 In his back garden he pointed out the rubber pipes that were used to collect rainwater from the large black collection bin.

I couldn’t help but notice the irony that the bin used was from the same Cardiff council who he was fighting against.

Opening the back door of his home he took me into a large room which was his kitchen and bedroom. 

At one side was the sink was his wheelchair and beside it was a desk. The desk littered with old newspaper clippings, photographs and a record list of every interaction he has had with people outside his home.

On that meticulous list I saw my name and the date when I sent him the letter and the instances in which I contacted him at his house. He liked to collect every that detail that occurred as proof if needed.

 He also had letters to show me that had been sent from the council which he dated and filed.

He then showed me his old photographs of when he worked as an ambulance driver. He reminisced of how he was greatly respected for his role in the community. Now the same community saw him as mad man. 

With great sadness he spoke of how much his young sons looked up to him because his job but now were ashamed of what he had turned himself into.

It was difficult looking at those pictures, to see what he was and what he had now become because he was denied justice.

 He told me that he helped to deliver eight children as an ambulance driver. He had done so much good but there was no recognition of his actions.

He then explained how he lost all his savings from when he retired in court fees battling against the council due to the  housing grants.

 The fight with council didn't just mean he losing his money but also his dignity as a human being. 

He was reduced to being a  beggar in his own home. 

Because of this he decided to cut his gas, water and electric because he didn’t want the council taking any more of his money.

He began collecting rainwater and installing turbines and solar panels for alternative energy.

Pointing out the tonne of batteries he described how they were solar powered with wires connecting to bulbs, and sockets providing him with electricity

On the other side of the room he had a small television connected to the CCTV camera at the front of his house. He said that he didn’t answer to any visitors, but when he unexpectedly received a letter from me and wanted to contact me back so I could tell his story.

He felt that the council intercepted his post because he rarely received any mail. He said they didn’t allow him to send or receive letters.  He even went as far as Hereford on many occasions to post a letter because he feared interception.

For cooking he had Gas canisters in his back hallway. He relied on an old camper pressure stove to cook his meagre meals. He ate very little, only what his small £32 a week pension covered.

He took us for a tour of the rest of the house his front door was barricaded and had sandbags placed in behind it. 

This was because he once had someone put petrol through his letterbox and the sand would help stop any possible fire from erupting if any inflammatory liquid was pushed through.

He  showed us his front room, which was full of wooden boards, sawdust and paint. 

This was where he wrote his signs against the council  He had kept the room in that condition for years as a sign of his unfinished business with them. The windows were covered in black bags keeping the room in relative darkness. 

 As we left the room Aiden broke down in front of me. He spoke of the charges he faced from the council for the state of his house back in 2005.

This amounted to a  £6,000 charge that was applied by the council when they took his signboards down. Because his pension amounted to about £32 a week and he was left with such little money that he couldn’t even adequately feed himself when this occurred.

The incident left him depressed and suicidal. He said that the council would have wanted him to kill himself so that they could get hold of his house. He still vividly remembers the day in which they took down his boards and tried to enter his home.

He said if they were to ever enter his home, he would hang himself. He even had a noose wrapped around the front banisters. He demonstrated how he would do it by placing it around his neck.  I felt worried for his mental state. 

Continuing the tour, he took me to a bedroom that he had prepared for me. In that room were dozens of photocopies of news articles relating to his story. 

He told me I could take my time and go through all of them. I said that I would like to, but it was just too time consuming to have to pour through the all the pages covering the bed, walls and floor.

“What you really want to see is in the attic” he said. As we went up the flight of stairs I couldn’t help to contain my own excitement. 

This was the room in which he had kept the remnants of his signs and boards.

 The famous Munsch scream was there in all its glory. The iconic picture that I had recognised from my childhood. Looking at the signs was like looking at a relic from a bygone time that had been archaeologically preserved.

For Gerald these were a constant reminder of the absent justice. A symbol of tragic consequence of what it is like to fight against those in power and feel so helpless.

With the tour ending I made way to exit. There were many thoughts and emotions going through my mind of the man behind "Scream House".

 I couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. 

A lingering sadness. The type of sadness you feel when you see a person waste precious years of their life to a cause that they know they cannot win.  

The house looked like it had been frozen in the past, ever since the grievances began in 1984. The state in which he was living, the boards and even the noose were a sign that Aiden will never move on from what happened. 

He will keep fighting, fighting till he gets recognition for what he has endured over the years.