An excerpt from my book of a couple of years ago, my first look at such and a book which has recently been reprinted. I have chosen one of the best-known towns in the area but not its most famous building, Dudley Castle. Locals will be aware of the Station Hotel, which stands in the shadow of the castle and a venue for many tales including the following.
Dudley seems to be a magnet for spectral sightings, particularly the region around the castle and below at the Station Hotel. The coming of the railway in 1850 was a major boost to the prosperity of the region and the town grew steadily. Until the end of the 19th century the main place for visitors was the hotel named, somewhat predictably, The Castle.
By May 1898 the new Station Hotel had taken in its first visitors, most of whom arrived in horse-drawn vehicles. In these early days the main entrance was on the corner of Trindle Road and Castle Hill. Once a fountain stood on the site of the traffic lights, an impressive first impression for visitors and a welcome watering place for the horses. This fountain had been relocated from its earlier site at the top of Castle Hill.
The Opera House opened opposite the hotel a year later, bringing the upper classes and their money to the town and, of course, to the Station Hotel. Even today the splendour of those early days is still evident, although what is seen inside today is largely the interior following the extensive refurbishment just prior to the second World War. The height of the ceilings instantly dates the place, while the broad and ornate staircase is as much of a delight to descend today as it must have been soon after it was first varnished. Doors of the rooms at this time were numbered and named using a method of embossing. These numbers are still visible when the light catches them from the right angle, as are the doors leading to the public cloakroom and water closet. The colours in some of the windows are mirrored in the glass of the light shades and are also from around this time. Both must be cleaned with care as replacements would have to be hand-made and thus tremendously expensive.
This refurbishment of the hotel coincided with the building of The Hippodrome, a brand new and modern theatre replacing the Opera House which had succumbed to a devastating fire in 1933. The hotel further enhanced its reputation with a guest list of stars from around this era including Laurel & Hardy, Johnnie Ray, Bob Hope and George Formby who, it is reported, appeared on the balcony of his suite where he performed a song or two to a crowd of fans who had gathered outside hoping for just a glimpse of their idol.
In the Swinging Sixties the hotel underwent yet another major facelift. A cocktail bar was opened, while the function room boasted 'the longest bar in the country' at that time. Still the place was considered very desirable and delightful way to round off the night after enjoying a show at the Hippodrome. However the place was still out of the reach of the pockets of most of the locals.
When I visited the hotel the former grandeur of the place was still very much apparent. I was treated to a tour, which took in the seemingly endless succession of passages and side rooms which formed the cellar. My guide allowed me to take the lead into one room, the murder scene. Here too is a disused passage which reputedly leads from the cellar to Dudley castle, the latter having closed that end shut many, many years ago. Yet there is no record of anyone ever having attempted to follow this subterranean route and, with the two famous buildings occupying entirely different moments in time, it seems this is a tunnel tale of folklore rather than fact.
My reason for visiting was the extraordinary number of reported ghosts here. Indeed a number of visitors here come simply to see if they have a ghostly experience, there is even a 'Spook Book' for those who wish to record any of their experiences. Those who hope to encounter something will reserve a room on the third floor where the vast majority of sightings occur. Dudley may well be able to warrant a ghost book of its own, if so the Station Hotel would figure at least seven times - for that is the number of regular visitors reported in this place.
I was taken on my tour by Sarah, a charming young lady who had worked here for a few years. This is a hotel and open twenty-four hours of every day, which means it needs to be staffed every moment of every day. Because of the shift system in operation the staff sometimes find it necessary to take advantage of the rooms themselves. It was during one of her overnight stays that Sarah had her visit from Eliza.
It was the early hours in the morning when the door, which had been locked and secured, opened and in walked a woman. This woman was wearing a drab brown woollen dress of full length, with a white apron. She was of small build, only about 5ft 4in tall, and wore a mob cap over a noticeable bun. Understandably unnerved by the intrusion Sarah challenged the woman, who made no response but simply disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.
Sarah refused to move from the bed until, after what could only have been a few moments, the mysterious woman emerged again and let herself out through the door. After regaining some of her composure she got out of bed, first to check the door and then to examine the bathroom. She instantly noticed the towels, which were once on the floor and now neatly folded. It was this that gave Sarah the clue to the identity of the woman. It seems that a former maid regularly pays visits to the rooms during the night and tidies up. There have been reports of clothes, which have been left on the floor where they fell, being found in the wardrobe on a hanger the following morning.
The woman she saw did not glow, was not transparent and, apart from her obviously dated attire, seemed a perfectly normal individual. Sarah was and remains sceptical about the existence of ghosts, despite her experience. However she did admit those towels went untouched. Her shower that day was followed by the use of a towel she collected from the reception desk.
The most frequently told tale of the hotel is that of George Williams - sometimes given as Williamson. A former manager of the hotel he was having an affair with a maid employed by him by the name of Elizabeth Hitchen. It seems the young Miss Hitchen, having discovered she was pregnant, confronted her employer demanding to know what he intended doing about this situation. She is supposed to have been less than impressed by his lack of interest and had threatened to reveal everything to his wife during a particularly vehement confrontation in the cellars. He snapped.
In a fit of rage he brutally murdered his mistress. Elizabeth is said to have been stabbed and strangled, her body lay in the cellar while Williams attempted to cover his tracks. Eventually he is said to have moved her body out via the chute and trap door which were used for the delivery of barrels and crates. Presumably this was achieved by pulling her body up by means of a rope, as the empty barrels would have been, for it is impossible to climb up this chute - especially while holding a lifeless corpse. Reports suggested it was here, under a patch of grass at the front of the Station Hotel, that the murderer concealed the body of his victim and former lover. During the recording of a recent television program the presenter, himself a medium, reported the body was still there.
However in recent years a guest came to the hotel, a woman who hoped to experience something of the paranormal activities. Indeed she was hoping to find she was visited specifically by either the perpetrator or his victim, for she had her own particularly good reasons. It seems that this crime was of particular interest to this lady, for she had undergone regression. This is where the individual is put into a hypnotic trance and taken back in time to see if they have any recollections of a former life. This was where this person had learned of the murder of Elizabeth Hitchen, for she claimed to have been her in a former existence. She had little waking memory of the events she had divulged during her regression, however she did report a feeling that she was in water. This suggests the body had been dumped in the nearby canal, not buried.
While this woman did not meet up with her former self, nor her attacker during her visit, others have reported seeing things which seem to point to this macabre event. For example there are numerous reports of hearing a woman screaming, wailing, or sobbing and clearly greatly distressed. In the part of the cellar where she was murdered a number of people have reported feeling chills, terribly uneasy, even scared with no apparent cause for this anxiety. There is also a report of a man seen cowering in the corner of the cellar, head in hands, sobbing. Could this be the guilt-ridden murderer? Nobody has ever been traced nor did George (or anyone else) face charges for the crime. Indeed we would be unlikely to known anything of these events had it not been for another George, who recorded this story and left his own mark on the hotel as we shall see in the following narrative.
An historian about whom more is known regarding his family and working life, than is known about his writings. He seems to have written the vast majority of his articles and reports anonymously. However it is known that what was written about the murder of Elizabeth Hitchen (see previous item) came ostensibly from the pen of Mr George Lawley.
George was a regular visitor to the Station Hotel, always sitting in the same place. Today this large round table is known as George's table. Indeed when bookings are made regular patrons often ask for this table by this very name. It is George's table which has been known to throw cutlery around the restaurant - thankfully so far this has only happened when the staff have been there and not when the place was full of customers.
However George is better known for his nightly patrol of the bar area of the function room. Apparently at twenty minutes to midnight a sudden chill is felt passing through from the direction of George's table through the bar in the direction of the reception area. This effect is highly localised, reports of just one side of the body or even just an arm or leg being affected are quite common.
George died in 1935 and, as far as anyone has managed to ascertain, his official record of the murder has never been seen since soon after it was written. Certainly nothing has ever been found in print. While his regular appearances through the bar can be unnerving for some, George Lawley's appearances are seen as an old regular keeping his eye on the place when he patrols his favourite haunt nightly. Indeed George is rapidly becoming seen as much a part of the place as anything else. Hopefully George will continue to watch over this part of history for many years to come.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Shropshire Place Names
An excerpt from my book and the entry looking at one of Shropshire’s best-known landmarks – Clee Hill.
Whilst it may seem otherwise, this refers to the village and not the hill itself. The hill name describes the shape of 'ball-shaped or rounded hill'. On the western slope is a road leading around an area of woodland, the conifers playing host to the red squirrel for as long as anyone could remember is today only marked by Squirrel Lane.
The Golden Cross seems to have no etymology associating it with the place, indeed no pub of this name can be explained fully. The cross, despite the temptation to suggest otherwise, does not normally have any religious connection but normally refers to a marker post or maybe a crossroads. It seems the 'golden' addition was only to make it sound more grand because of its humble beginnings.
The other pub in the village has a known etymology and a surprisingly recent one. The Kremlin Inn is the highest pub in the county of Shropshire, indeed it is said to be the highest point between her and a direct line to the Urals. This pub had always been known as the Craven Arms until the early 1970's. In those days licensing laws were different and pubs routinely closed at 2:30pm until the evening session. To encourage patrons to leave promptly after the ten minute 'drinking up' period, the juke box was switched normally off. However as the last '45' finished the (then) large box of equipment started to pick up and emit the sounds of Radio Moscow. Shortly afterwards the place changed its name although there is still little to associate the place with the former Soviet Union.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Whilst it may seem otherwise, this refers to the village and not the hill itself. The hill name describes the shape of 'ball-shaped or rounded hill'. On the western slope is a road leading around an area of woodland, the conifers playing host to the red squirrel for as long as anyone could remember is today only marked by Squirrel Lane.
The Golden Cross seems to have no etymology associating it with the place, indeed no pub of this name can be explained fully. The cross, despite the temptation to suggest otherwise, does not normally have any religious connection but normally refers to a marker post or maybe a crossroads. It seems the 'golden' addition was only to make it sound more grand because of its humble beginnings.
The other pub in the village has a known etymology and a surprisingly recent one. The Kremlin Inn is the highest pub in the county of Shropshire, indeed it is said to be the highest point between her and a direct line to the Urals. This pub had always been known as the Craven Arms until the early 1970's. In those days licensing laws were different and pubs routinely closed at 2:30pm until the evening session. To encourage patrons to leave promptly after the ten minute 'drinking up' period, the juke box was switched normally off. However as the last '45' finished the (then) large box of equipment started to pick up and emit the sounds of Radio Moscow. Shortly afterwards the place changed its name although there is still little to associate the place with the former Soviet Union.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 5 May 2013
Nottinghamshire Place Names
From my book Nottinghamshire Place Names comes two stories. In all my research I have never found anyone who earned the accolade of a place named after him more than James Hutchinson, the second of these tales. While his lifestyle would have been seen as unusual during his lifetime, today his choices seem quite extraordinary.
Two individuals whose eccentric behaviour certainly warranted them being immortalised in the sign showing the name of the place where they once lived. Darker's Court is named after an old miser, Thomas Darker, here in 1847. He became increasingly deranged, refusing to venture out of his single room other than to visit a nearby well under the cover of darkness. He repelled all who attempted to make contact, even his own brother was threatened with a gun when he resorted to breaking in. Eventually Darker went completely mad and, failing to treat a fever, he died. Later a search of his room revealed a large cache of gold and silver coins.
Back to what was then still known as Narrow Marsh for our second Nottingham street tale. For 76 years James Hutchinson had been a framework knitter working from his home, for the last 20 years the frame never left his window, nor did his seat move from alongside it. He lived to the ripe old age of 93 until his death in 1813. During his whole life he never ventured more than 7 miles from his home in Nottingham. He also had some strange eating habits. He was fond of proclaiming he had never even tasted tea and, most unusually for a time when water was considered unsafe to drink, drank no ale for almost the last 20 years of his life.
His diet was even stranger. In the same window as he worked were lined up 14 vessels, each containing a pennyworth of milk which he had purchased on 14 consecutive days. Each day he would consume the oldest of the milk, the more sour and clotted it was the more he liked it. During the warmer months in the window the clotted milk would often become too hard to swallow, he referred to this as 'cheesecake' and would boil it in order to make it liquid, and therefore drinkable, once more.
Such unusual behaviour did not affect him unduly. He lived until 1813 when he was 93 years old, leaving at least 30 descendants. For the meals alone he surely merited the name of Hutchinson Green.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Two individuals whose eccentric behaviour certainly warranted them being immortalised in the sign showing the name of the place where they once lived. Darker's Court is named after an old miser, Thomas Darker, here in 1847. He became increasingly deranged, refusing to venture out of his single room other than to visit a nearby well under the cover of darkness. He repelled all who attempted to make contact, even his own brother was threatened with a gun when he resorted to breaking in. Eventually Darker went completely mad and, failing to treat a fever, he died. Later a search of his room revealed a large cache of gold and silver coins.
Back to what was then still known as Narrow Marsh for our second Nottingham street tale. For 76 years James Hutchinson had been a framework knitter working from his home, for the last 20 years the frame never left his window, nor did his seat move from alongside it. He lived to the ripe old age of 93 until his death in 1813. During his whole life he never ventured more than 7 miles from his home in Nottingham. He also had some strange eating habits. He was fond of proclaiming he had never even tasted tea and, most unusually for a time when water was considered unsafe to drink, drank no ale for almost the last 20 years of his life.
His diet was even stranger. In the same window as he worked were lined up 14 vessels, each containing a pennyworth of milk which he had purchased on 14 consecutive days. Each day he would consume the oldest of the milk, the more sour and clotted it was the more he liked it. During the warmer months in the window the clotted milk would often become too hard to swallow, he referred to this as 'cheesecake' and would boil it in order to make it liquid, and therefore drinkable, once more.
Such unusual behaviour did not affect him unduly. He lived until 1813 when he was 93 years old, leaving at least 30 descendants. For the meals alone he surely merited the name of Hutchinson Green.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 28 April 2013
Sir Laurence Tanfield
Such was the popularity of a recent post covering one of the many ghost stories in my (to date) four books, I offer up another chilling tale from my book Paranormal Cotswolds. The following story comes from Burford in Oxfordshire. I selected this narrative as it was so well received when I was invited by BBC Radio Oxford to record five stories to be broadcast in the week leading up to Hallowe’en in 2009.
Sir Laurence Tanfield’s career encompassed lawyer, politician and landholder, a highly prominent figure in the country between 1583-1625. Born around 1551, his earlier years are something of a mystery but we do know he was admitted to the bar of the Inner Temple in 1569 and his success enabled him to purchase an estate at Burford in 1583 and later lands at Great Tew. Burford Priory was built at his behest on his lands where a mental hospital had previously stood.
In 1584 he entered parliament as MP for New Woodstock, twenty years later he was returned for the county of Oxford and knighted by James I. The king had been a guest of Tanfield's en route to London in the autumn of 1603 and clearly enjoyed an excellent rapport with Tanfield. In 1607 Sir Laurence was Chief Baron of the Exchequer, a position he held until his death.
However, while his professional career was undoubtedly successful, in Burford and Great Tew the inhabitants had a revealing story to tell. By 1617 as Lord of the Manor of Burford, he and his wife were involved in a number of disputes with both the inhabitants and the local administration. Indeed the reputation of Lord and Lady Tanfield for being greedy and corrupt remains a part of Burford folklore. Having stripped Burford church of every valuable, purported to be in settlement of a dispute with the then vicar, although the circumstances regarding the dispute and the supposed agreement are suspicious, the people thereafter saw him as 'the very devil among us'. So reviled was he that the people of Burford celebrated his death by burning an effigy of Lord Tanfield around the anniversary each and every year and continued to do so for over two hundred years.
It was probably unwise for his widow, who herself died three years later, to return to the church of St Catherine's and erect a quite astonishingly outlandish monument to her husband, which also allowed for room for her when her time came. The craftsmanship of the sculpture is unquestionable, the design ugly and clearly not the result of anyone with the talents to produce such work but undoubtedly produced exactly to the orders of the widow. However perhaps the sculptors, embarrassed by the work they had likely charged an exceptional sum of money to produce, made their own comment on the memorial. Bending down to look underneath the carving one will see a frail skeleton, invisible to the casual observer and unlikely to have been part of the widow's thoughts. Is it suggesting that, in death, no money and power can save any from the same inevitable end?
Yet the story does not end there, for Sir Laurence is still said to be about today. He has been seen driving a coach pulled by four impossibly black horses in a number of places around his former estates. It is claimed that each and every one of these witnesses suffered bad luck following the sighting of the phantom coach and its notorious driver, although how the vision of the coach and horses is identified with Sir Laurence is unclear.
Furthermore it has been suggested that the skeletal carving beneath the sculpture was not created by mortal hand but a warning added by the lord of the manor announcing his return to this world after his wife's death.
As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sir Laurence Tanfield’s career encompassed lawyer, politician and landholder, a highly prominent figure in the country between 1583-1625. Born around 1551, his earlier years are something of a mystery but we do know he was admitted to the bar of the Inner Temple in 1569 and his success enabled him to purchase an estate at Burford in 1583 and later lands at Great Tew. Burford Priory was built at his behest on his lands where a mental hospital had previously stood.
In 1584 he entered parliament as MP for New Woodstock, twenty years later he was returned for the county of Oxford and knighted by James I. The king had been a guest of Tanfield's en route to London in the autumn of 1603 and clearly enjoyed an excellent rapport with Tanfield. In 1607 Sir Laurence was Chief Baron of the Exchequer, a position he held until his death.
However, while his professional career was undoubtedly successful, in Burford and Great Tew the inhabitants had a revealing story to tell. By 1617 as Lord of the Manor of Burford, he and his wife were involved in a number of disputes with both the inhabitants and the local administration. Indeed the reputation of Lord and Lady Tanfield for being greedy and corrupt remains a part of Burford folklore. Having stripped Burford church of every valuable, purported to be in settlement of a dispute with the then vicar, although the circumstances regarding the dispute and the supposed agreement are suspicious, the people thereafter saw him as 'the very devil among us'. So reviled was he that the people of Burford celebrated his death by burning an effigy of Lord Tanfield around the anniversary each and every year and continued to do so for over two hundred years.
It was probably unwise for his widow, who herself died three years later, to return to the church of St Catherine's and erect a quite astonishingly outlandish monument to her husband, which also allowed for room for her when her time came. The craftsmanship of the sculpture is unquestionable, the design ugly and clearly not the result of anyone with the talents to produce such work but undoubtedly produced exactly to the orders of the widow. However perhaps the sculptors, embarrassed by the work they had likely charged an exceptional sum of money to produce, made their own comment on the memorial. Bending down to look underneath the carving one will see a frail skeleton, invisible to the casual observer and unlikely to have been part of the widow's thoughts. Is it suggesting that, in death, no money and power can save any from the same inevitable end?
Yet the story does not end there, for Sir Laurence is still said to be about today. He has been seen driving a coach pulled by four impossibly black horses in a number of places around his former estates. It is claimed that each and every one of these witnesses suffered bad luck following the sighting of the phantom coach and its notorious driver, although how the vision of the coach and horses is identified with Sir Laurence is unclear.
Furthermore it has been suggested that the skeletal carving beneath the sculpture was not created by mortal hand but a warning added by the lord of the manor announcing his return to this world after his wife's death.
As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Devizes in Wiltshire
A snippet from one of the forthcoming books on the origins of place names. This time it is the county of Wiltshire and the town of Devizes.
Recorded as Divises in the 11th century, this name is one of the very few places in England of Old French origin. Here the name is from devise to describe the '(place at) the boundaries'.
Locally we find Dunkirk, a common minor name in England referring to the Flemish town which was an English possession during the 17th century. The Brittox describes its location near the castle gates, this being fortified by stockades, and Castle Street is of obvious derivation as indeed is Long Street. Trafalgar Place, too, is clearly a reminder of one of the pivotal battles in history.
Hillworth Road speaks of its destination, Wharf Street was cut alongside the Kennet and Avon Canal, Morris's Lane remembers a prominent local family, and Estcourt Street was named after Thomas Estcourt, MP for Devizes from 1835 who served as Home Secretary in the Earl of Derby's government of 1859.
Pub names featuring animals are often heraldic, when a colour is specified they are always from a coat of arms. The White Bear refers to the earls of Kent, the Pelican Inn could refer to Corpus Christi College in Oxford, the Dolphin is featured in many crests and particularly those associated with the sea, while the Black Swan was a mythical creature and a symbol of a rare individual until the discovery of Australia where black swans are indigenous.
The locality would have given a name to the Bridge Inn, The Millstream, and the Southgate Inn; an association with the church is seen in the Bell by the Green and the Lamb Inn; hunting was the inspiration for the names of the Fox & Hounds and Hare & Hounds; and patriotism gave us the Queens Head and the British Lion. The Cavalier will have spawned numerous stories with suggested etymologies, when the most likely is simply it makes a splendid image for a sign, although it does also suggest a royalist and a patriot.
The message at the Four Seasons is telling us it is open all year round, while making an attractive sign usually depicting four separate images. Finally there is the Moonrakers, a name which is said to have originally come from Wiltshire. Locals tell the story of how the Customs and Excise men came looking for smugglers, finding them dredging the waters apparently to retrieve casks of brandy. However the leader of the group, pretending to by an idiot, told them they had seen a large cheese in the waters and were trying to find it. The customs men soon realised the supposed 'cheese' was in fact the reflection of the full moon.
The Three Crowns show the nations of England, Scotland and Ireland all coming under one monarch; George & Dragon clearly points to the patron saint of England and his most famous enemy.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Recorded as Divises in the 11th century, this name is one of the very few places in England of Old French origin. Here the name is from devise to describe the '(place at) the boundaries'.
Locally we find Dunkirk, a common minor name in England referring to the Flemish town which was an English possession during the 17th century. The Brittox describes its location near the castle gates, this being fortified by stockades, and Castle Street is of obvious derivation as indeed is Long Street. Trafalgar Place, too, is clearly a reminder of one of the pivotal battles in history.
Hillworth Road speaks of its destination, Wharf Street was cut alongside the Kennet and Avon Canal, Morris's Lane remembers a prominent local family, and Estcourt Street was named after Thomas Estcourt, MP for Devizes from 1835 who served as Home Secretary in the Earl of Derby's government of 1859.
Pub names featuring animals are often heraldic, when a colour is specified they are always from a coat of arms. The White Bear refers to the earls of Kent, the Pelican Inn could refer to Corpus Christi College in Oxford, the Dolphin is featured in many crests and particularly those associated with the sea, while the Black Swan was a mythical creature and a symbol of a rare individual until the discovery of Australia where black swans are indigenous.
The locality would have given a name to the Bridge Inn, The Millstream, and the Southgate Inn; an association with the church is seen in the Bell by the Green and the Lamb Inn; hunting was the inspiration for the names of the Fox & Hounds and Hare & Hounds; and patriotism gave us the Queens Head and the British Lion. The Cavalier will have spawned numerous stories with suggested etymologies, when the most likely is simply it makes a splendid image for a sign, although it does also suggest a royalist and a patriot.
The message at the Four Seasons is telling us it is open all year round, while making an attractive sign usually depicting four separate images. Finally there is the Moonrakers, a name which is said to have originally come from Wiltshire. Locals tell the story of how the Customs and Excise men came looking for smugglers, finding them dredging the waters apparently to retrieve casks of brandy. However the leader of the group, pretending to by an idiot, told them they had seen a large cheese in the waters and were trying to find it. The customs men soon realised the supposed 'cheese' was in fact the reflection of the full moon.
The Three Crowns show the nations of England, Scotland and Ireland all coming under one monarch; George & Dragon clearly points to the patron saint of England and his most famous enemy.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 14 April 2013
Bloody British History: Stafford
As part of the series Bloody British History, here is a glimpse at my forthcoming volume on Stafford. Not every story involves the spilling of blood and gore or even disease and pestilence as can be seen from the following excerpt.
During the nineteenth century shoemaking was among the major employers in the town. Many worked from home, for the work was mostly done by hand. Workers owned their own set of tools, keeping them in excellent condition and guarding them well. Clearly this was a significant investment and without such would be unable to work.
Thus when one Mr Singer made important improvements to the sewing machine people of Stafford had good cause to be worried. A job they had done by hand all their lives could now be mechanised and production increased greatly. This was fine for those who could afford the new technology but for the rest it spelled financial disaster. The workers could see no alternative but to take strike action.
Yet this could not be a withdrawal of labour in the modern sense but was indeed such in a very real sense for they left Stafford in their droves. Many went to Nantwich in Cheshire. Fairly close to their home town and, more importantly, somewhere the sewing machine had yet to reach. Hence they took lodgings in Nantwich, bringing with them their skills and earning much-needed cash.
Of course their former employers were suffering from a lack of quality but did manage to keep supply lines open with a smaller workforce who were able to produce shoes much faster even if of poorer quality, the new machines could stitch the uppers at some 1,500 to 1,700 stitches per minute.
Yet the manufacturers could not let this continue, poorer quality would eventually lose them business altogether. Customers would find other suppliers in Birmingham, Shrewsbury, Chester and Wolverhampton more than willing to step in. Stafford employers were at a loss to understand just why their workers refused to undergo minor retraining just to use a machine which would make their working lives much easier.
However they were not the only ones to feel the impact. Far harder hit were the families of those whose apparent move away from Stafford was simply to find work. The men found themselves work alright, lodgings were much easier to come by in those days, but the wage packets never found their way back to Stafford. Left without a breadwinner, Stafford suddenly found itself home to women with children rapidly descending into destitution. This was absolutely unacceptable and led to a Stafford shoemaker complaining of how their former workers were “taking the strike as an avenue to divorce”.
Not all shoemakers had deserted their hometown. Poaching was a common way to add to the meagre menus of the majority and, for those with the knowhow, their quarry could be sought directly. This left out the middle man and the only expense was in time and trouble. Oswald Beeman had been adding to his table for years, meaning more of his hard-earned cash as a shoemaker could be spent at the local pub instead of the butcher. With the strike he saw the opportunity to fill his pockets and simply spent more time poaching.
One Thursday in May, Beeman was in the grounds of Creswell Hall, his favourite hunting place. When he saw a keeper approaching he panicked and, as he attempted to unscrew his gun in order to hide the pieces in his voluminous pockets, managed to discharge his gun. Hit from point blank range, the bones in his left leg was utterly shattered above the ankle. Rushed to the infirmary he paid a high price for his illegal activities for that leg was amputated at the knee. Perhaps this was considered to be adequate punishment for there is no record of him ever being charged for his crimes.
Six months after the strike began to hit one manufacturer called a meeting with his competitors. Something had to be done to encourage their workforce back to Stafford otherwise not only would their families starve but they would soon be out of business. An agreement was reached whereby all would pay an extra penny on shoes and twice that amount on boots and welts if they return to work and accept the new technology.
As the workers came home to Stafford the businesses were saved and wives and children were no longer forced to beg for food. While no companies went out of business as a direct result of the strike, it is impossible to gauge whether their action did lasting damage either to the town or the industry.
As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
During the nineteenth century shoemaking was among the major employers in the town. Many worked from home, for the work was mostly done by hand. Workers owned their own set of tools, keeping them in excellent condition and guarding them well. Clearly this was a significant investment and without such would be unable to work.
Thus when one Mr Singer made important improvements to the sewing machine people of Stafford had good cause to be worried. A job they had done by hand all their lives could now be mechanised and production increased greatly. This was fine for those who could afford the new technology but for the rest it spelled financial disaster. The workers could see no alternative but to take strike action.
Yet this could not be a withdrawal of labour in the modern sense but was indeed such in a very real sense for they left Stafford in their droves. Many went to Nantwich in Cheshire. Fairly close to their home town and, more importantly, somewhere the sewing machine had yet to reach. Hence they took lodgings in Nantwich, bringing with them their skills and earning much-needed cash.
Of course their former employers were suffering from a lack of quality but did manage to keep supply lines open with a smaller workforce who were able to produce shoes much faster even if of poorer quality, the new machines could stitch the uppers at some 1,500 to 1,700 stitches per minute.
Yet the manufacturers could not let this continue, poorer quality would eventually lose them business altogether. Customers would find other suppliers in Birmingham, Shrewsbury, Chester and Wolverhampton more than willing to step in. Stafford employers were at a loss to understand just why their workers refused to undergo minor retraining just to use a machine which would make their working lives much easier.
However they were not the only ones to feel the impact. Far harder hit were the families of those whose apparent move away from Stafford was simply to find work. The men found themselves work alright, lodgings were much easier to come by in those days, but the wage packets never found their way back to Stafford. Left without a breadwinner, Stafford suddenly found itself home to women with children rapidly descending into destitution. This was absolutely unacceptable and led to a Stafford shoemaker complaining of how their former workers were “taking the strike as an avenue to divorce”.
Not all shoemakers had deserted their hometown. Poaching was a common way to add to the meagre menus of the majority and, for those with the knowhow, their quarry could be sought directly. This left out the middle man and the only expense was in time and trouble. Oswald Beeman had been adding to his table for years, meaning more of his hard-earned cash as a shoemaker could be spent at the local pub instead of the butcher. With the strike he saw the opportunity to fill his pockets and simply spent more time poaching.
One Thursday in May, Beeman was in the grounds of Creswell Hall, his favourite hunting place. When he saw a keeper approaching he panicked and, as he attempted to unscrew his gun in order to hide the pieces in his voluminous pockets, managed to discharge his gun. Hit from point blank range, the bones in his left leg was utterly shattered above the ankle. Rushed to the infirmary he paid a high price for his illegal activities for that leg was amputated at the knee. Perhaps this was considered to be adequate punishment for there is no record of him ever being charged for his crimes.
Six months after the strike began to hit one manufacturer called a meeting with his competitors. Something had to be done to encourage their workforce back to Stafford otherwise not only would their families starve but they would soon be out of business. An agreement was reached whereby all would pay an extra penny on shoes and twice that amount on boots and welts if they return to work and accept the new technology.
As the workers came home to Stafford the businesses were saved and wives and children were no longer forced to beg for food. While no companies went out of business as a direct result of the strike, it is impossible to gauge whether their action did lasting damage either to the town or the industry.
As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
Sunday, 7 April 2013
The Devil’s Churchyard
Near my home, and dominating the view to the north when travelling along the A5, is a wooded ridge. On the Ordnance Survey Map it is named the Devil’s Dressing Room, although I have never been able to discover why. Access is restricted, making close examination impossible. Yet this does not seem to be particularly ancient woodland. Thus either the name is comparatively recent, and therefore a created name, or where trees had been cleared and have regrown and thus an ancient name and one which was not recorded on very old maps.
To link the Devil to minor place names is not unusual, indeed it is surprisingly common which may be a clue how these names rarely refer to Beelzebub himself but to someone seen as wicked or known for some evil deed. Whilst I have no idea of the origin of his Dressing Room, from Minchinhampton, near Stroud in Gloucestershire comes a story which I do know. I suspect the story was told in an attempt to explain why there was no local church but this depends upon whether the story predates the name or vice versa – and that is something we will never know.
Hyde Farm gets its name from that Saxon measurement of land, the hide. Most often said to equal 120 acres, this is simply an average because the ‘measurement’ refers to productivity and not area. It is extremely difficult to quantify a hide, the reason can be seen in the accepted definition of “the amount of land required to feed one family for one year” where there are so many variables – the size of the family, quality of the soil, skills of the farmer, choice of crops, all have to be taken into consideration.
During the twentieth century Hyde Farm has been associated with flight. Today it is owned by the local gliding club but was once a base of operations for the Royal Air Force. This military presence had the effect of isolating the farmworkers as much as it did the official personal who had made it their temporary home. Even after the end of the Second World War rationing remained in force for a number of years, making life hard for all and particularly so for those who were just starting on married life.
It was a warm day when one farmworker broke for lunch. Recently married, both he and his wife worked long hours and would have looked forward to the few hours each day they spent together. Perhaps that was where the young man’s mind went when he entered a small copse away from the heat of the sun and cab of the tractor to open his lunch box. Having just taken a second bite his thoughts were interrupted by a most awful noise from the depths of the copse. Looking up he saw a mist and, as he watched, it began to gather into a most unnatural form. This was enough for the poor man who fled, leaping into his tractor and driving off as fast as the lumbering farm machine would allow.
Not being a local man he was unaware of the reputation of the copse as a place of evil. An area where no bird was heard to sing, of inexplicable darkness, where chills were felt on the warmest of days. Many years before the community, tired of trecking to neighbouring villages for Sunday worship, had asked for their own church to be built and this field had been selected. Agreement was reached and eventually work started.
Foundations were laid down and walls rose reaching half their eventual height. During the night something happened and the sight which greeted the workers when they returned next morning astonished them. Before them were no walls but a collection of stone blocks strewn around the site but not seemingly having fallen. They built them back up again but, once more, they returned next day to find the walls dismantled. Four more times this happened and the workers abandoned the site.
No reason was ever found for this act of superhuman vandalism, yet the community soon offered their own explanation. Ever since this field has been known as the Devil’s Churchyard.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
To link the Devil to minor place names is not unusual, indeed it is surprisingly common which may be a clue how these names rarely refer to Beelzebub himself but to someone seen as wicked or known for some evil deed. Whilst I have no idea of the origin of his Dressing Room, from Minchinhampton, near Stroud in Gloucestershire comes a story which I do know. I suspect the story was told in an attempt to explain why there was no local church but this depends upon whether the story predates the name or vice versa – and that is something we will never know.
Hyde Farm gets its name from that Saxon measurement of land, the hide. Most often said to equal 120 acres, this is simply an average because the ‘measurement’ refers to productivity and not area. It is extremely difficult to quantify a hide, the reason can be seen in the accepted definition of “the amount of land required to feed one family for one year” where there are so many variables – the size of the family, quality of the soil, skills of the farmer, choice of crops, all have to be taken into consideration.
During the twentieth century Hyde Farm has been associated with flight. Today it is owned by the local gliding club but was once a base of operations for the Royal Air Force. This military presence had the effect of isolating the farmworkers as much as it did the official personal who had made it their temporary home. Even after the end of the Second World War rationing remained in force for a number of years, making life hard for all and particularly so for those who were just starting on married life.
It was a warm day when one farmworker broke for lunch. Recently married, both he and his wife worked long hours and would have looked forward to the few hours each day they spent together. Perhaps that was where the young man’s mind went when he entered a small copse away from the heat of the sun and cab of the tractor to open his lunch box. Having just taken a second bite his thoughts were interrupted by a most awful noise from the depths of the copse. Looking up he saw a mist and, as he watched, it began to gather into a most unnatural form. This was enough for the poor man who fled, leaping into his tractor and driving off as fast as the lumbering farm machine would allow.
Not being a local man he was unaware of the reputation of the copse as a place of evil. An area where no bird was heard to sing, of inexplicable darkness, where chills were felt on the warmest of days. Many years before the community, tired of trecking to neighbouring villages for Sunday worship, had asked for their own church to be built and this field had been selected. Agreement was reached and eventually work started.
Foundations were laid down and walls rose reaching half their eventual height. During the night something happened and the sight which greeted the workers when they returned next morning astonished them. Before them were no walls but a collection of stone blocks strewn around the site but not seemingly having fallen. They built them back up again but, once more, they returned next day to find the walls dismantled. Four more times this happened and the workers abandoned the site.
No reason was ever found for this act of superhuman vandalism, yet the community soon offered their own explanation. Ever since this field has been known as the Devil’s Churchyard.
I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.
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