DURING the spring of 2016, I received a phone call from Mike Cotton, a Barnsley Chronicle reporter at the time.

“Ronnie Steele’s phoned,” he said, “and he’s raising funds to build a statue in honour of his former teacher, Barry Hines. It was Barry who wrote the...”

“Yes,” I replied, “I know Barry wrote the classic novel, A Kestrel for a Knave, and I think I can guess where this conversation’s leading, Mike.”

“Ronnie says there’s only one sculptor in the world who should create this, and that’s you, Graham.”

I wasn’t sure about that flattering statement. I was looking forward to a future without commissions, concentrating on doing my own work; however, it took me about 10 seconds to change my mind. The thought of making a statue, to honour Barry Hines’s work, thrilled me more than Mike Cotton could ever realise.

The one sculpture I really felt I was born to make was ‘The Oaks Memorial’ (Barnsley), unveiled in 2016 and dedicated to 361 souls who were killed in two explosions in December 1865 – England’s worst industrial disaster. My distant relative George Ibbeson died in that tragedy.

Now, I was being given an opportunity to create a sculpture that was part of my own recent history. Forget any financial rewards, this was another task that I felt I was put on this earth to do. And so, 24 hours later, I was knocking on Ronnie’s door with a sheaf of papers in my hand and facts and figures in my head.

“Here’s the design, the dimensions and the costs. I don’t want any financial reward; I’d love to be involved with the project because the Kes film means such a lot to me and so many local people. Furthermore, I know what it will entail and I’ll ensure you won’t get ripped off. Here’s my CV,” I said, as I passed him a copy of my biography.

After Ronnie had studied my proposals he said: “The design is perfect and the figures look great. All I need to do now is to create a team – there’s no way I’ll succeed on my own.” And so Ronnie assembled a core of five people, me included, and the project got underway in earnest. We’ve been close friends ever since.

Despite this promising beginning, one or two problems cropped up to cause delays. So in the end I thought, sod it, I’m going to make a start on the life-size clay sculpture of Billy with his ‘Barnsley Budgie’ – even though there’s still a danger that the whole thing might get abandoned halfway through.

I began the sculpture in the spring of 2018, and by May the clay figure was complete and under damp wraps. Ronnie arranged a press preview at my home workshop. David Bradley (Billy Casper) was also in attendance. I’m always very nervous at this point.

But, I’d no need to worry because everyone who attended this special open-day, including the media, were most impressed, and now everyone in the Kes group felt sure of success. I just felt relieved. The Kes Group had already had sneak previews of my sculpture’s progress. I’d also invited David up on an earlier occasion to take a look, and he gave me some valuable advice regarding the kestrel. There was only one other person in this world we now needed to impress and that was Ken Loach.

In the autumn of 2021, on the day of the statue unveiling, the nerves kicked in again. I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until the formalities had been completed and the Billy Casper figure had been revealed to the eyes of the world.

Only then could I relax further with my mates and family in the pub - something of a ritual after all my unveilings.

Before the actual ceremony, the public made its way inside the Parkway cinema to listen to the brass band followed by speeches. In the foyer, Ken Loach was being assailed by lots of fans and friends. I saw Ronnie Steele trying to look cool but I knew just how he felt inside.

“Ey up, Ronnie. How are you feeling, mate?”

“I might go outside for a smoke.”

“A smoke? I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t,” he said, “but I’m so stressed...”

And we both laughed, which eased the tension. Ronnie said, “I plan to formally introduce you to Ken Loach straight after the unveiling. How’s that grab you?”

“Yep. Sounds good to me.”

Sitting in the theatre, I had difficulty concentrating on the speakers’ words, especially after Ronnie invited the ‘Kes Group’ on stage (he kept this from me because he knew I’d rather be on the sidelines).

Then Ken stood up to speak and for the first time that morning, I forgot all my anxieties and followed his every word. Maybe it was the tension of the day, but what he said moved me so much. His quietly-spoken, passionate speech brought back many of my childhood memories, the good and bad, and all the injustices of our society, then and now.

Looking back on the project, several things uncannily fell into place, just like they did with my Oaks Memorial. I could identify with Billy Casper because I was brought up in a mining community five miles from Barnsley and attended a secondary modern school. I experienced the same type of bullying, and similar teachers (although we didn’t have a Brian Glover). I married at 17 in 1969, the year the Kes film was released, and watched the film in 1970, the year I went back to art school.

I didn’t think so at the time but the film had a profound effect on me. I started to embrace my heritage and wanted to make art that was accessible to everyone and, above all, to portray the truth.

After the unveiling, Ronnie did, indeed, introduce me to Ken.

He is one of those rare characters who immediately put you at ease. Some people have a genuine, compassionate personality that seems to radiate from them. As I walked away, his words were ringing in my ears: “Graham, your sculpture is wonderful.”

It was a great accolade for me. Job done, I thought!

Thank you, Ken, and best wishes for the future. This tribute is well and truly deserved.