He was there for three years before transferring to AEI in Manchester as a student apprentice, after which he returned to engineering design in Larne, remaining there until 1964.
After a spell in aircraft design in Shorts, Belfast Tony took up a career as a mathematician working in design consultancy and as a lecturer in the University of Ulster.
Tony's poem caricatures the training of typical young engineering draughtsmen during the late 1950s. The story centres on the Drawing Office (DO) of Larne's former large steam turbine factory - BTH (British Thompson Houston) - later AEI and currently FG Wilson's.

A DRAUGHTSMAN'S INDENTURES
by Tony Donegan (2002]

The World War had ended a decade or more,
And BTH - had come to the fore,
In Larne they settled with views to the sea,
Large steam turbines they made for a fee.

The layout impressive for all to see,
A massive factory - perhaps for free,
The largest in Europe without a doubt,
Export - the business they were about.

The press had a harvest - industrial news!
And Ulstermen read the competitive views.
No doubt they were thinking - what lodge or what creed,
But the Larne firm ignored any satire indeed.

People when meeting were using new words,
Describing their futures as though they were birds,
Free pickings - no rations, a new time was born,
The sixties were coming and turbines were norm.

In Shorts they were speaking of turbine powered planes,
In Harlands - great ships with turbines sought names,
The gossip - from Stormont to men in the street,
Was all about training and being upbeat.

Colleges thriving - courses abounding,
Advancing procedures - all technical sounding,
Senior certificates, Juniors as well,
Endorsed with tradition and used for the swell.

BTH in its wisdom - unique in its style,
Recruited young draughtsmen straight from the pile,
Their training was different and somewhat aloof
When set against Harlands - and all without proof.

With knowledge and hindsight it grew in affection,
Supported at all times by college reaction.
Board skills artistic - nice to observe,
But time on the shopfloor was there in reserve.

Apprenticeship training - five years in the firm,
Five years of emotion, a sentence or term,
From six in the morning with breakfast repeating,
Competing and cheating - meeting and eating.

How could I know this - you readily ask,
I'll tell you - bear with me - it's no simple task,
A young man was pondering his future one day
While sitting at home in the month of May.

He thought and he wondered - what sort of career
Would train him up as a great engineer.
His art teacher told him that he had some skill,
Perhaps as an artist or draughtsman at will.

When he told his parents - they nearly went spare,
The thought of their son with very long hair,
But when he explained that it was a trade,
They smiled at each other - he knew he was made.

Newspaper adverts - for jobs there were many,
To buy them - no chance. He hadn't a penny.
He went to the library! Now that was sad;
He even made friends with a newspaper lad.

Then one day it happened - while sitting in class,
Reading a newspaper - bold as brass,
Apprenticeship Draughtsmen willing to learn,
BTH placed an advert for all to discern.

With school soon behind him - and sixteen to boot,
A career as a draughtsman seemed guaranteed loot.
He wrote as requested - his very best scroll,
And the art teacher too - played a very great rôle.

When he was selected along with some more,
He jumped with joy at the note through the door,
Report here on Monday - and wear a good suit,
You've been chosen in Larne as a DO recruit.

His mother's emotion was clear to be seen,
Her thanksgiving prayers were reigning supreme.
His father just smiled and offered his hand -
No doubting his son was the best in the land.

The first three month epoch - they all had a ball,
They were put in an office, eleven in all.
Instruction was given on drawing fine lines,
They thought we were brilliant, dressed up to the nines.

Drawing boards, tee squares and set squares as well
These were the tools on which they would dwell.
Straight lines with angles and circles galore
Would represent steelwork and castings and more.

The honeymoon ended – but this was foretold,
They moved into limbo - a workshop of old,
In Larne's Curran Road – with boilersuits blue,
It was here that old Alfie tried teaching the few.

Filing and fooling - machine shop retooling,
Turning and forging with lessons on cooling.
These were the skills they tried to accomplish,
But soccer at lunchtime removed all the anguish.

A year of this lasted to end with a shock,
They were going to mix with the rest of the flock;
Fitters, tin-bashers, lofters and turners,
Machinists, inspectors and welders with burners.

First, a probation with tough trouble-shooters,
These were notorious craft training tutors,
Avoiding suspension - the name of the game,
Suspension was common and so was the shame.

One of the tutors – God was he feared,
"What are you doing - your bench has been cleared?"
This he would bellow in late afternoon,
The lads felt like prisoners in some great lampoon.

Back in the factory - great overhead cranes,
Departments and sections all laid out in lanes,
The vastness impressive, and frightening too,
Instinct the teacher - they knew what to do.

Heads down for the foremen - smiling to storemen,
Try as they would, they could never ignore them.
Strange as a lesson - not taught but just learned,
Everything now just had to be earned.

The lads had a hard time - but not without humour,
With spot-welded heels, they were left in a stumer,
And cynical storemen would tell them to wait,
When seeking long stands for a journeyman's mate.

They learned about detail and shopfloor routine,
Reading the paper and not being seen -
They even learned nicknames and just who was who,
And soon they were treated as part of the crew.

Now they were learning the trade union rules,
BTH draughtsmen were not to be fools,
With all this behind them - three years having past,
The office reunion would certainly last.

Day release to the Tech – it was the norm
But lads being lads were slow to conform.
They needed the theory to boost their careers;
In truth, there were only a few volunteers.

Back in their good suits with pencils and slide-rules,
They sat at their desks while working through schedules.
Designing scheme layouts with intricate details,
Yet finding the time to chat with the females.

On Fridays the talk was of dances galore,
And gossip could run to girlfriends and more.
On Saturday, football was followed by stingo
And then most would head for Sammy's Flamingo .

Sore heads on a Sunday, ah! what the hell,
It was great while it lasted and no one would tell.
Of course there was Monday; the office again -
The routine, the gossip the RotoRing pen.

The story must end now before its too late,
And one thing is certain – there is no debate
The training was super and all without blame.
Indentures? They got them; sure that was the aim.