Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester nu 25 Ashley Lane ............. now even the name is lost

Now Richard’s picture of Aspin Lane as it runs under the railway viaduct is as atmospheric as you could get.

Aspin Lane, 2016

The wet stone setts, the lonely lane framed by that viaduct takes you back a century or more to another age when this bit of Angel Meadow was one of those places where “poverty busied itself.”

Like Richard I have spent many years wandering the streets around the old St Michael’s Rec and burial ground.  In my case it came after meeting the historian Jacqueline Roberts, reading her book on the area and using some of her material in classes I taught on working class housing in the 19th century.*

And it was she who first introduced me to the idea of using census material to engage students in exploring social history.  The unit focused on the streets around Irk Street, John Street and Back Ashley Lane in the 1851.

Ashley Lane, 1849

Here in just 16 houses lived 120 people, making their living from a variety of occupations from factory work, to cap makers, porters and that lowest of jobs, a brush maker.

Some like Mr and Mrs Shaw and their three children lived in the cellar of number 3 Back Irk Street, while round the corner at nu 3 John Street the eight members of the Riley family were squeezed into one of its two rooms.

So Richard’s photograph drew me in but as hard as I looked there was no Aspin Lane on the old maps, but that was simply because Aspin Lane was indeed Ashley Lane and an unknown photographer had got there before us and in 1910 took a picture from almost the same spot.

Ashley Lane, 1910

But all stories deserve a second look.

And after my old facebook friend Bill questioned me on my comment on the status of brushmakers I went looking for more on them. 

And the Working Class Movement Library offered some interesting detail, leading me to correct my assumption this was a precarious and low status occupation.**

Location; Angel Meadow

Pictures; Aspin Lane, 2016 from the collection of Richard Hector- Jones, and in 1910, m00218, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass  and in 1849 from the OS for Manchester & Salford, 142-49, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

*Roberts, Jacqueline, Working Class Housing in Nineteenth-century Manchester: The Example of John Street, Irk Town, 1826-1936 1983

***Brushmakers, Working Class Movement Library, https://www.wcml.org.uk/our-collections/working-lives/brushmakers/

The last of the unseen pictures of Chorlton-cum-Hardy

This the last of six picture postcards of Chorlton-cum-Hardy, marketed by Rapid Art Photography Company, sometime in the 1930s.

And of the six, this is the only one I have seen before.

The other five were all of familiar landmarks but taken from unusual angles, making them just that bit different.*

But this one of St Werburgh’s pretty much conforms to your standard image.

The foundation stone for the church was laid in 1899, and it opened three years later, and in the words of one of our historians was “to fulfil the spiritual needs of the people who had come to live in the new house built near Chorlton Station and Alexandra Park Station on the Fallowfield Line”.**

The full story of the church and all the other places of worship across Chorlton and West Didsbury can be found in Chorlton-cum-Hardy Churches, Chapels, Temples, A Synagogue And A Mosque.***

Which just leaves me to return to the choice of the six images for the picture postcards.  One was of Chorlton Park, a second was of Hough End Hall, and third looked out across Chorlton Golf course, leaving two of the River Mersey and Jackson’s Boat and this one of the church.

There is no logical theme underlying the choice, and while some fit together by virtue of their proximity to each other, St Werburgh’s sits alone.

Perhaps they were a random choice made by someone sitting in the headquarters in London or the favourites of the photographer, but what ever the reason for the selection they are different from the usual set of Chorlton images.

And that is it.  I thank Jennie Brooks for finding the six and Michael Billington for emailing them over to me.

Location; Chorlton-cum-Hardy

Picture; St Werburgh’s Church, circa 1930s, courtesy of Jennie Brooks

* Chorlton Pictures the unseen 6, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/search/label/Chorlton%20Pictures%20the%20unseen%206

**Templar, Nora, Chorlton-cum-Hardy Fellowship of Churches, 1988, page 12

*** Chorlton-cum-Hardy Churches, Chapels, Temples, A Synagogue And A Mosque, Andrew Simpson & Peter Topping, 2018

Peck's Salmon paste ........ spread on bread and a meal in one

Peck's meat and fish pastes were something I grew up with.

They came in small glass jars and offered up a variety of tastes, from fish, salmon, beef and chicken and were spread on bread.

I had all but forgotten them until my friend Lois opened up the flood gates of memory with a story on her blog.*

I did go looking for the story of Peck's a few years ago but the research led nowhere and I gave up.

Now I knew there was an Australian connection because the jars arrived via a friend of mums who was given them at work and she said they were from Australia.

It never occurred to me to ask but I think B worked for a wholesale firm and these came as one of the perks of the job.

You were never quite sure what would arrive and I suspect that was also how it was with B.

I remember they dominated our lives and were a quick meal, although now I have no idea which I preferred.

Looking back now over fifty years I see they sit along with dripping, blancmange and tinned fruit salad as part of our basic diet and would only be replaced by the fish finger, beef burger and instant whip sometime in the 1960s.

Not that any of this helped with Peck's products.

The best I could do comes from the site of General Mills which is a food company based in Minneapolis and which has  factories still producing the pastes in Australia.**

It would appear that Peck's were making their spreads in Britain by 1891 and opened up in Australia in 1904 reaching their highest sales in the 1950s and 60s.

All of which fits and confirmed that I hadn't mistaken our Australian paste jars and of course offers up that simple observation that more often than not childhood memories are more likely to be true than imagined.

And in turn reminds me of that post war period when rationing had ended but the full impact of the consumer revolution had yet to arrive and in the absence of a cornucopia of instant foods, Pecks pastes on sandwiches did the job.

Pictures; adverts for Pecks product date unknown, taken from Spreading the love for a vintage Australian brand

*Paste sandwiches anyone?  http://loiselden.com/2015/04/29/paste-sandwiches-anyone/

** Spreading the love for a vintage Australian brand, Taste of General Mills, March 2015, http://www.blog.generalmills.com/2015/03/spreading-the-love-for-a-vintage-australian-brand/

One hundred years of one house in Chorlton ....... part 148 ….. winter on Beech Road

The continuing story of the house Joe and Mary Ann Scott lived in for over 50 years and the families that have lived here since.*

Strictly speaking it is now 108 years but I am not counting.

And today the story is nothing more than a reflection on the return of an old fashioned winter's day on Beech Road.

It is cold, a pale and indifferent sun has done nothing to lift the temperature, but it ain't raining and that is a bonus as Nigel and Craig are setting about relacing the roof on the jutty out bit at the back of the house.

The tiles a builder used 40 years ago were too heavy, have cause some damage and we are going back to slates ..... the sort Joe would have used back in 1915 when he built the house.

And that is about it, other than to say at midday the evidence of the early morning frost is still there for all to see.

Location; Chorlton

Pictures; Winter on Beech Road, 20223 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*The Story of a House, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20story%20of%20a%20house

Always make a record ……. Shudehill before a tram or the bus

How easy it is to forget the more recent changes to our city.

The tram stop, 2023

I don’t mean that time before the rise of the giant towers which now dominate the skyline in almost every direction and are very striking scene as you travel in by tram from Cornbrook into Deansgate Castlefield.

Or for that matter the journey in to the city centre along the Oxford Road corridor or Rochdale Road from the north.

I am thinking instead of the bits in between like the entrance to Victoria Station, and the tall development at Nicholas Croft.

Into the bus station, 2023

All of which is an introduction to the Shudehill Interchange, which happened while I wasn’t looking.

My Wikipedia tells me that is a “is a transport hub between Manchester Victoria station and the Northern Quarter in Manchester city centre, which comprises a Metrolink stop and a bus station.

The tracks through the site were opened in 1992; however, the tram stop did not open until 31 March 2003. 

The bus part of the interchange opened on 29 January 2006.

Construction had initially started on the bus station in 1998 and it was planned to have been completed and fully operational by 2000, but several disputes over the ownership of the site along with two public inquiries over the course of five years resulted in the construction work on the station being halted until 2003”.*

The lonely wait, 2023

Now given the date 1992 there will be those that matter I must have had “my eyes closed for a long time”.

Which is of course possible but in reality had more to do with the simple fact that during the 1990s I rarely went to Victoria Railway Station or Shudehill.

When two trams meet, 2023

But perhaps I just wasn’t that observant to the point that when our Ben talked about getting a bus from Shudehill bus station I was a tad puzzled.

All of which has now been rectified, and as an alternative to the Second City Crossing, I will take the tram from St Peter’s Square via Market Street through Shudehill and onto Victoria.

Earlier in the week Shudehill was my go to destination, which I used as the staring point for a wander up to the Rochdale Road across to Swan Street, Eagle Street and round to High Street into the heart of the Northern Quarter.

So that is it, leaving me just to post some of the “interchange" pictures and one courtesy of John Casey when the tram tracks were in the making on their way to Victoria.

That said I have to confess that there were buses on Shudehill before the Interchange and even a horse drawn mail coach service to Ashton Under Lyne at the start of the 19th century from the Hare and Hounds.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Location; Shudehill

Tram rails in the making, 1990s

Pictures; Shudehill Interchange, 2023, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and tram rails in the making, 1990s courtesy of John Casey

*Shudehill Interchange, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shudehill_Interchange

Hough End Hall …… from the unseen collection of Chorlton pictures

It is easy to miss Hough End Hall.

It is partially hidden by two rather ugly office blocks, has a school and carpark to the rear and can only be glimpsed from the main road which nearly caused its destruction.

Many people will automatically assume it is part of Chorlton, and it does lookout on Chorlton Park, but it was once the home of the Lords of Withington, it’s inhabitants were listed in the census returns for Withington and it was built by an Elizabethan businessmen who had bought up into the connection with Withington.

The hall was built in 1596 by Sir Nicholas Mosley, passed into the estate of the Egerton family in the 18th century, and from then on was variously a farmhouse, restaurant, set of offices, and after an uncertain period when it was empty and waiting a buyer, it became an Islamic Centre.

All of which brings me to the picture postcard, which is one of six, dating from sometime in the 1930s, and were marketed by the Rapid Art Photography Company.

The Hall in the picture is in its last phase as a farmhouse, and by the time the photograph was taken, the land around the farmhouse had shrunk from 250 acres in the 1850s down to just three.

By 1940, the tenancy passed to the Bailey family who were just across the road and worked the three acres in conjunction with their own farm.

In the 1960s, the bailey’s sold the hall and plot to a developer. And later in the century it became a restaurant.

Since the beginning of the 20th century the hall, has seen off plans to demolish it for a road widening scheme, been the centre of a series of creative idea to transform it into an art gallery and community hub and is now an owned by an Islamic group.

What I like about the picture, is not only the image of the hall, but the surrounding detail, like the farm cart casually left in the garden, the outhouses and the glimpse of the fields in the distance.

Which just leaves me to close with the book on the hall, which I wrote with Peter Topping back in 2015.

It tells the story from when Sir Nicholas splashed out some of his money made in London to replace a much older family home, which was no longer to adequate to showcase the family's success.

The book covers the tops turvey history of the Mosley family, its time as a farmhouse, spanning 250 years and its time as a restaurant, containing many old black and white photographs, a series of original paintings by Peter, and contemporary accounts as well as my stories.

Location; Hough End Hall






Picture; Hough End Hall, circa 1930s, from a picture postcard, courtesy of Jennie Brooks

*Hough End Hall The Story Andrew Simpson & Peter Topping, 2015

Who remembers those long coach journeys out to Ewell for an afternoon’s sport?

Now if like me you grew up in one of the inner London boroughs the chances are that one afternoon a week you were bused out to Ewell in Surrey during term time.

I did four years and may have done a fifth although I rather think by the time I was in year 11 we could opt out.

And it was a mammoth undertaking, involving transporting a whole year group by coach from New Cross to the leafy outer suburbs which for me also meant a Saturday morning during the winter to play in the school rugby team.

It was not for me the highlight of the week, in fact it was an ordeal brought on by my inability to travel on buses, coaches and cars without feeling ill.

It began with the smell of those green coaches which the school hired which even now brings on that same uneasy feeling.

I suppose they were the newest of models and were pretty much the workhorse of the company ferrying school children to Ewell, works parties down to the sea coast and hired out to other companies.

And then as the journey got underway the heat from the engine and the smell of the leather seats mixed with an overpowering scent was enough to set me off, made no easier by the knowledge that this was it for 40 minutes only to be repeated again later in the day.

I won’t have been alone in feeling like that and I guess it was a small price to pay to get us all out to participate in a range of sporting activities.

But it does point to that simple observation that if you went to an inner city secondary school there weren’t going to be acres of green fields surrounding the school.

Back on home base we had the asphalt playground and another on the roof of the new block and that was it.

It was another of those little things that marked secondary moderns off from grammar schools.

But in that brave post War era the LCC and the Inner London Education Authority set about offering us out at Ewell something others took for granted.

Looking back I can see the wisdom of their actions even if the experience was an ordeal.

Picture; from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Miss Lydia William Falconar Grant ……… a nurse from the Great War

I never tire of the way that a chance picture of some one long dead sets off a story which goes off in a dozen different directions.

And so, it was yesterday when Tony sent over his photograph of one of the gravestones in Southern Cemetery with the comment, “knowing your interest in the Red Cross I thought you might find this interesting”, which of course I did.

The grave belongs to Miss Lydia William Falconar Grant, who died on April 1st, 1917 at the Ducie Avenue Military Hospital.  

The inscription reads “Lydia William Falconar Grant V.A.D. Member of the Red Cross Society of Australia, born at Falcon Hall, Morningside, Edinburgh and died at Ducie Avenue Military Hospital, Manchester, on the 1st of April 1917, Elder daughter of Peter G. Grant & Emily Grant of Brisbane, Queensland”.

She was born in Scotland in 1880, grew up in Australia, served at a military hospital just off Oxford Road, in Manchester, and died just a year after she was engaged by the Red Cross as a member of the Voluntary Aid Detachment.

This was a voluntary unit of civilians providing nursing care for servicemen in the UK and across the British Empire.

And this was the start of the story.

Falcon Hall was a very large 18th century mansion in Edinburgh, which according to one source belonged to the family.  Her father described himself as a “land surveyor”, and after returning to Australia in late 1880 he appears to have become a police magistrate.

Miss. Grant was educated at the Ladies’ Methodist College in Melbourne, and was living in Brisbane when she volunteered to serve with the Voluntary Aid Detachment.

She left Australia in September 1916, and after four days in London was posted to Manchester, beginning work in December of that year.

According to one press report she  felt the intense cold weather in Manchester but “she was always very happy, and keenly interested in her work.  Her letters showed also that she had met with great kindness from those with whom she came into contact, and found both in sisters and nurses engaged in the same hospital much congenial comradeship”.*

The hospital was the former Ducie Avenue Municipal school, which had been requisitioned in 1916, and consisted of 240 beds, of which 88 were specialists’ ones, and until 1917 it had an orthopedic section.

Sadly, she contracted measles in the late March of 1917, which developed into Septic Arthritis on March 28th, and by the following day she “became unconscious with very little hope of recovery”.

Her funeral was reported in The Searchlight, which was the monthly publication of Second Western General Hospital in May, reporting that "Miss. Grant was one of the first contingent of the Australian Probationer who came to us last November and during her short period of work here and also during her illness, bravely and patiently borne had greatly endeared herself to all she came into contact.

She was laid to rest in Southern Cemetery on April 4th, close to the grave of V.A.D., Nursing Member Pearce, whom we buried only a few weeks ago.  At the request of friends, the funeral was a private one, and the service, which was very impressive, was conducted by the Ven. Archdeacon Aspinall, assisted by Cap, Worseley.  

It was attended by Sargt. C Grant, 1st Australian Division, Capt. Brentnall, R.A.M.C. (T.F.) and a large number of Sisters and nurses of the Second Western General Hospital staff, including seven other members of the Australian contingent”.

I doubt I will ever get to see the letters she wrote home, and so have no way of knowing what she thought of Manchester, but I hope on her days off she got to see something of the city.

There will be more that will come to light about Miss Grant.

For now, we have a photograph, an entry in the book commemorating the work of the 2nd Western General Hospital,*** her Red Cross record card and a handful of other sources.

And I have to thank Bruce Terrell who is a relative and first alerted me to the photograph of Miss. Grant and to Bruce Anderson who gave me permission to reproduce pictures of the Ducie Avenue Military Hospital from his excellent web site, Rusholme & Victoria Park Archive****, and went off and did his own research and coming back with many of the other sources I used, from the Cairns Family History.

Leaving me just to thank Tony Goulding who sent me the picture of the grave and set me on  the story.

Location; Scotland, Australia, Manchester

Pictures; gravestone of Miss Lydia William Falconar Grant, 2020, from the collection of Tony Goulding, cover 2nd Western General Hospital, 1919, courtesy of David Harrop, photograph of Miss. Grant, Women in war, ANZAC Centenary Queensland, 2014-2018, https://anzac100.initiatives.qld.gov.au/remember/women-in-war/index.aspx, Ducie Avenue Military Hospital, 1916-1919, courtesy of Rusholme & Victoria Park Archive, https://rusholmearchive.org/rusholme-military-hospitals-1914-1918

* Cairns Family History, https://cdfhs.org/indexes/cairns-wwi-soldiers/grant-lydia-wilhelmina-falconer/

**The Late Miss Lydia Grant,  V.A.D., Cairns Post May 16th, 1917

*** 2nd Western General Hospital, Manchester , 1914-1919

**** Ducie Avenue Military Hospital, 2nd Western General Hospital, Rusholme & Victoria Park Archive, https://rusholmearchive.org/rusholme-military-hospitals-1914-1918

***** Cairns Family History, https://cdfhs.org/indexes/cairns-wwi-soldiers/grant-lydia-wilhelmina-falconer/

Don't grieve for me Tom Mix .... I remember you only as Hanburys

So, farewell

2023

That place on Barlow Moor Road.

To me you will always be Hanburys,

But for those newcomers you were just the Co-op

And for those whose memories stretch back beyond 1970,

You were Radio Rentals, Tesco and of course the Palais De Luxe.

I missed your glory days as the cinema of dreams

And while some have over the years called you

The Bug Hut, and Nitty Nora’s Home from Home

You were our first true picture house,

Opened in 1914 and lasted a few short decades,

Till television and a night in front of the box

1928

Finished you off.

I owe you this last picture from Peter Topping

Who snapped you on November 25th

And if now I wandered up to see you

1980s

I fear you will have gone,

Leaving only a pile of twisted girders, broken concrete

And heaps of celluloid memories.

As for those who ask what next?

I offer up  a link to the Planning Portal*

Where all will be revealed.

Location Barlow Moor Road

Pictures; Goodbye to my cinema dreams, 2023, Peter Topping, The Palais De Luxe cinema, circa 1928, Charles Ireland, GD10-07-04-6-13-01 courtesy of East Dunbartonshire Archives, Hanburys shopping bag, 1980s, courtesy of Catherine Brownhill, 

*097667/FO/2011/S1, Erection of a part 3/part four storey building to form a commercial use on the ground floor and 13 self-contained flats above, with associated car parking (5 spaces) and cycle storage, following demolition of existing property, Manchester City Council Planning Portal, https://pa.manchester.gov.uk/online-applications/applicationDetails.do?keyVal=LTKO3CBC06N00&activeTab=summary

A golf course a new park for south Manchester and a bit of a storm

Now someone will be able to place just where this picture was taken, although the passage of almost 90 years might be a challenge.

The photograph was one of six, marketed by the Rapid Art Photography Company, sometime in the 1930s.

By which time Chorlton Golf course had seen off a plan in 1914 by Manchester Corporation to appropriate part of the course for a new super park for south Manchester.*

Naturally the 450 members of the club opposed the scheme, but there was a recognition that the park would “benefit the entire southern side of the city [and] do more for that part of Manchester than Heaton Park does for the northside.”*

In addition, the Corporation  had proposed “a town planning scheme which means at least wide roads, better houses, gardens and tree planting” and offered up the possibility of following other big city parks with “playing fields for football and cricket and a lake for boating”.

And not for the last time looked to improving the road link between Manchester and Cheshire with a major road using “the track known as Hardy Lane and then over the Mersey by Jackson’s Bridge”.

To which some pointed to the total impracticability of the park and highway on what was a flood plain.

But I rather think what did for the park scheme in 1914 was the outbreak of war just five months after the plan was first floated.

Location-Chorlton-cum-Hardy

Picture; Chorlton Golf Club, circa 1930s, courtesy of Jennie Brooks

* Barlow Hall, a court case and the promise of a park for Chorlton and Didsbury on the banks of the Mersey; https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2019/11/barlow-hall-court-case-and-promise-of.html

*The Proposed new Park for Manchester, the Manchester Guardian, April 11, 1914 

That amazing Mr Banks ....... his pictures and other practitioners of his trade

Now I remain fascinated by what can turn up in an old cupboard, under the floor boards or in this case the family picture album.

And for what follows I have my old friend Oliver Bailey to thank, who having read the story on the photographer, Robert Banks, sent up a selection of the trade cards which accompanied some of the family pictures.

Oliver told me that "glancing through your blog on I saw the name Banks, which rang a bell as he was one of many that took photos of different branches of the family and I attach copies of mountings he used plus a list of all the practitioners of the art that the family used".

All of which was a find indeed.

Mr Banks was born in 1847, his father was a journeyman carpenter, and at fifteen he was employed as a woollen piercer in Upper Mill.  At the age of twenty he was an illustrated artist working for the Oldham Chronicle and in 1867 had set up as a photographer in the High Street at Uppermill.

From there he set up in Manchester, was employed to take family photographs, and went out on to the streets of the city to record what he saw.

He was commissioned by the Corporation in 1878 to photograph a series of pictures of the newly opened Town Hall and went on to compile sets of albums including the opening of the Ship Canal, the unveiling of Queen Victoria’s statue, and King Edward’s visit in 1909.

The mountings on the back of Oliver’s family photographs record the growing success of Mr Banks who by degree began opening studios across the city and beyond including Blackpool.

Along with these cards, Oliver provided a list of 35 other photographers, many of whom were working outside Manchester and include places ranging from Todmorden, Southport, Rochdale, Pendleton, Halifax and Burnley.

At which point I will have to go back to Oliver and enquire as to how so many far flung photographers were snapping the family.  I suppose the explanation for some like Southport, Hollingworth Lakes, and Douglas in the Isle of Man will be holiday opportunities, But Sierra Leone will throw up a story.

The list is a treasure trove, because it offers the chance to pursue the careers of each of these picture takers.
I know the Manchester ones will be there in the local directories which I have but the ‘out of town’ ones are all new to me and over time I will pursue them.

Just leaving me to thank Oliver, whose family farmed in Chorlton from the 1760s.

Location; everywhere






Pictures, trade cards from Robert Banks, late 19th, early 20th centuries, from the collection of Oliver Bailey

Private Ernest Francis Hahn from Australia, who was buried in Southern Cemetery in 1915 aged 22

It began with this simple grave stone in Southern Cemetery to a young man who died far from his home having crossed the world to fight at Gallipoli.

He was Ernest Francis Hahn who had been born in Redesdale in what was then still “the colony of Victoria” in Australia on June 23 1893, and left Melbourne in the December of 1914 ending up on the shores of the Ottoman Empire in the ill fated Gallipoli campaign.

He was wounded in early May with gunshot wounds to his chest and died here in Manchester at the General Hospital of enteric fever on June 25 1915.

It is a story that could be replicated many times but what marks this story out is that David Harrop posted the picture on a social network site in response to a request for information about Private Hahn's grave in Southern Cemetery from a relative and almost immediately he received a reply from Margaret Cooper in Australia, who supplied David with the story of this young man and concluded with that it was “nice to see the photos at Southern Cemetery and that he has such a peaceful resting place.”

And with Margaret's permission I was able to access a wealth of family material  which gave a context to the life of young Ernest who was the son of Heinrich Frederick Hahn who had been born in Germany in 1843, settled in Australia in 1865 and married Jane Rose in 1870.

Mr and Mrs Hahn had fourteen children had worked hard and were well respected in their home town.

Amongst the documents were Ernest's birth certificate, his obituary and his ANZAC medal along with much more about his brothers and sisters.

What also makes this new link with Margaret's family all the more fascinating is the sight of an Australian birth certificate which differs from those issued in Britain and which provided a wealth of additional information not included on our own.

All of which has added to my own knowledge and wish to go looking for my own Australian family.

So we all win and I shall close with Margaret's reply to my last email, "thank you for telling the story of Ernest Hahn in your blog. 

Gradually the stories of the occupants of the lonely graves are being told and it is nice to know people care and remember them and want to record who they were and something about their lives..............I think Australians are surprised at the respect shown by the English towards the war graves."

And here of course I have to mention David and his  unique collection of memorabilia from both world wars, some of which is permanently on show a in the Remembrance Lodge.

Picture; the grave stone of Private E R Hahn, 2015 from the collection of David Harrop, and Private E R Hahn's ANZAC medal courtesy of Margaret Cooper.

Additional material courtesy of Margaret Cooper

Looking into the future of Eltham High Street in 1975

The High Street in 1910

Now I don’t normally go in for then and now pictures but I have made an exception with these two images from a 1975 document issued by the Council.*

The book was part of a planning consultation and fell through the letter box after I had long left Well Hall for Manchester.

I am not sure what my dad and sister Stella thought of the process, or the ideas but now both the planning exercise and their suggestions  are as much a piece of history as any of the stories I usually write.

The High Street in 1971

So along with the 1970s pictures there is also an insight into how the planners were thinking back then and just how far the bold new world they suggested has come about.

And for me the images have a special connection. Our Stella worked at the library and from 1964 till I left Well Hall in '69 it was a regular venue, along I remember with Marks & Spencer's where I bought my first ever fruit yogurt.

Now that is not only revealing a secret but says so much on the new horizons which were opening up for a lad from south East London.

Pictures; from A Future for Eltham Town Centre, Greenwich Borough Council, Planning Department, 1975

*Of town plans and visions of a future that never quite happened, Eltham in the 1970s and Manchester in 1945.http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/of-town-plans-and-visions-of-future.html

Chorlton Park ….the Southern Hotel, and the Rapid Art Photography Company

Now I like the way  you can still turn up rare and unseen pictures of Chorlton.

So, I was pleased when an old friend emailed me with the news  “Jennie unearthed a packet of six postcards of Chorlton  in an envelope which you may or may not have seen. I suspect there will be nothing new here, but I thought I'd send you them nonetheless just in case.

I particularly like the one of Hough End Hall with the handcart".

The six are of familiar Chorlton landmarks, but I have only ever seen one of them before, and the remaining five are all taken from an unusual angle or contain little bits of detail which make them both fascinating and unique.

And Michael is right about the one of Hough End Hall, with its handcart and views out across open fields, which makes it special enough to be featured later in the week.

For now, it is the picture of Chorlton Park, with the Southern Hotel in the distance and the barn at the junction of Nell Lane and Mauldeth Road West which interest me.

The postcard was never sent, and so bears no postmark, nor is there a date on the card.

But we can at least get a rough starting date, because Chorlton Park was opened in1928, while permission to build the Southern Hotel was granted three years later.

And for those interested in such things, mighty had been the tussle to gain permission, with opposing parties commissioning rival polls of the residents, fears that it was too close to a local school, and if built it would draw people in to Chorlton for the sole purpose of drinking.*

The first poll of 1,665 people in the neighbourhood showed that only 570 were in favour of erecting the pub on the corner of Nell Lane and Mauldeth Road West.  But a subsequent poll of those living on the Council estate surrounding the pub showed a majority in favour which was enough for the Committee of the Council to grant permission to build it.

All of which just leaves the mystery of the company who marketed the card.

I only had the initials R.A.P.CO Ltd, London EC4 to go on.

It wasn’t a firm I was familiar with but as you do a trawl of the internet revealed that this was the “Rapid Art Photography (R.A.P. Co. Ltd) and were based at Chelsea Bridge, London EC4 as well as offices in Brighton, Eastborne, Bournemouth, Croydon, Dover, Folkestone, Southsea and Hastings..
R.A.P Co. Ltd and the logo ‘R A Series’ appear on many postcards, usually accompanied by a local publisher’s name”.**

And that in turn threw up a short but detailed history of R.A.P Co. Ltd, which I shan’t steal, but instead direct you to the link.***

Leaving me just to thank Jennie Brooks who found the six picture postcards, and Michael Billington who sent them across.

Location; Chorlton Park, date unknown

Pictures; Chorlton Park, date unknown, and envelope of, R.A.P Co. Ltd,  courtesy of Jenni Brooks

Next; Hough End Hall


*A New Chorlton Hotel, Manchester Guardian February 6, 1931

**Postcards Of The Past
Old Postcards & Photographs, http://sandgrownlass.co.uk/old-postcards/postcard-publishers

***Rapid Art Photography (R. A. P.) of Brighton, Eastbourne & Hastings, http://photohistory-sussex.co.uk/EastbneRapidArtPhotographyRAP.htm

Uncovering more of that hidden house in Eltham High Street

Here we are again with that house tucked away down an alley beside a bank on the High Street.

It was the home of the Fry family, possibly from 1819 and certainly through that century till the last of the Fry sisters died in 1907.

And it is a story I keep returning to, partly because it says a lot about a middling family here in Eltham during the 19th century and because it is a case book example of how you start with a name, go on to locate the family home and along the way discover that a property you thought lost is still there.

Now all of that you can read about by following the link to Ivy Court, John Fry or the Fry sisters.

I fear nothing will remain of the original features, but the firm may be in possession of the deeds which will date the building tell us a lot about the Fry family and may well throw up other interesting stories.

Picture; Ivy Court today courtesy of Jean Gammons

Repeating history ..... yesterday in London

History is full of those moments when good men and women come together to challenge the voices of hate, discrimination, and prejudice.

London, 2023

And yesterday over a 100, 000 walked through the streets of London calling out the rising tide of antisemitism.

Manchester, 1962

It is a sad fact that such a demonstration is repeated by almost every generation from those who stood against Oswald Mosley’s attempts to revive his fascist message in the early 1960s, to the Battle of Cable Street in 1936 and back through history.

In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War returning Jewish and non-Jewish servicemen and women had to confront the activities of various antisemitic groups, which they successfully did.

Nor of course is it just antisemitism, Islamic hate crimes are on the increase, as are examples of prejudice and outrageous treatment of other ethnic groups.

But yesterday it was to draw attention to antisemitism and to reiterate that in a modern diverse Britain antisemitism has to be challenged.

Manchester in London, 2023

Location; London, 2023

Pictures; of yesterday’s demonstration courtesy of Stephen Gilchrist and demonstration at Belle Vue against Oswald Mosley, 1962, m07971, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass

Growing up in Australia with no past, no family and just unanswered questions ..... Empty Cradles

The story of the children sent to Canada from the late 19th century into the early 20th has almost passed out of living memory, but those who went to Australia were still leaving our shores in the 1970s.

These Australian stories are no less harrowing than those young people who travelled across the Atlantic.

They bring to the surface all the same feelings of anger and incredulity that someone could think it was a good idea to solve the problems of our homeless, neglected and poverty stricken children by dumping them in other parts of the Empire.

Now before any one accuses me of a lack of historical impartiality I do have to say that like many of the descendants of children sent from Britain to Canada I have been very careful in examining the case for their migration. Some in Canada might even feel that I have been over cautious about coming to a judgement.

Here is it is enough to say that despite some well meaning thinking on the part of some good people and a belief that wide open spaces were a better environment than the streets and dismal courts of the poorer parts of our cities the policy was wrong.

And it was seen to be wrong at the time.  Almost from the onset of the programme people were worried about the lack of supervision and inspection in Canada and had been challenging the very premise upon which the migration was undertaken.

So, that I hope has negated that oft used argument by the apologists of the scheme that we are in  some way judging past actions by  present day sensibilities.   It always was a tired and barren argument but one totally exposed when you consider that the policy was still in full swing in the 1960s and really only came to an end 40 or so years ago.

This was no case of another time and another place, but at a moment when Britain had embraced the welfare state, believed we were advancing to a new bright future which offered new life choices to its entire people and set against full employment and growing prosperity.

And yet the children were still being sent.  In some cases having been told their parents were dead and in almost all cases denied any real knowledge of who they had been or why they were sent.

This shabby little episode, this last flickering of a discredited policy in child care was exposed by Margaret Humphreys, a Nottingham social worker in the 1980s.  Her work in providing a history for all those Australians who grew up with no knowledge of a family in Britain or the circumstances which led to them being sent to Australia is documented in her book Empty Cradles which in turn became the film Oranges and Sunshine.

It is a powerful account of the confusion, hurt and anger felt by many of these young people combined with an insight into the reluctance shown on the part of the charities and government agencies to either help or even admit the extent of the programme.

And this is why I think it is essential reading for all of us engaged in telling the story of British Home Children.

For most of us our own BHC relatives are dead and many of their records are scattered, lost or unobtainable.  Even just identifying the names of the young people is a huge task and some I fear will never emerge from the shadows.

So for most of us looking for family it is a matter of pouring over newspaper accounts, census returns and just possibly if we are very lucky the records of the local work house or children’s charity.

Going the next step and trying to understand the justification for the migrations is wrapped up in dense committee minutes of long forgotten charities or the often vain self congratulatory biographies and autobiographies of the worthies involved.

All of which means our own feelings of anger and disbelief are one step removed.  Mrs Humphrey’s book has the value that here are the voices and experiences of people still alive, still able to recount their stories and give a context to what happened.

In its way the book has done more to make me angry about what went on than the plight of my own great uncle or the stories uncovered by Lori and Norah and the many others committed to telling the story of our Canadian BHC.

But it is also a very revealing insight into how the charities and authorities tried to minimise what went on and in some cases to perpetuate the myth that it was all oranges and sunshine and that they were only doing what was best for the children.

More than once Mrs Humphrey’s was told that her work had caused hurt to those who ran the charities to which her reply was always that she knew of countless other Australians who had been at the receiving end and were also still hurting.

I know there are those who feel that the publicity around the book takes the limelight away from the experiences of our Canadian relatives but I rather think it is the reverse.  Empty Cradles exposed an awful episode in child care, opened up the debate and contributed to national apologies made by the Australian and British Governments.

All of that was a good thing, and will lead I have no doubt to an apology from the Government of Canada.  The work of those promoting the petition along with the growing number of books, exhibitions and research will continue to shine a light on all those young people sent north across the Atlantic.

In the meantime I shall finish the book and order up the DVD of the film.

*Empty Cradles,  was published in 1994. Its sales of 75,000 copies helped to fund the work of the Child Migrants Trust at a critical time when British government grants had been stopped. Empty Cradles has been dramatised as the 2011 feature film Oranges and Sunshine.

The Child Migrants Trust was established in 1987 by Margaret Humphreys CBE, OAM. It addresses the issues surrounding the deportation of children from Britain. In the post-war period, child migrants as young as three were shipped to Canada, New Zealand, the former Rhodesia and Australia, a practice that continued as late as 1970. http://www.childmigrantstrust.com/

Walking past the Montague Arms, on Queens Road

Now the Monatgue Arms is one of the places that does not loom large in my memory.

I would have passed it regularly enough, given that Lausanne Road where we lived  was on the route via Queens Road and Kender Street  to New Cross Library.

But we left Peckham when I was thirteen so the place was  just  a pub I passed and never went in.

All of which means it's story and its history belong to others.

That said I rather think my old friend Peter has captured it well.

Peter and I have worked on many projects including an eighty meter instalation, and I rather think we just have begun a new one.

After all there are some fine buildings with intriguing stories waiting to be recorded.

Painting; The Montague Arms, © 2011 Peter Topping

Web: www.paintingsfrompictures.co.uk

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When they closed that place in Stretford ………

There will be many ways to remember that place on Great Stone Road in Stretford.

For some it will magic musical nights when this was The Hard Rock, for others an introduction to 10 Pin Bowling and others of a mature age that emporium of paint, wall paper, and rotating screwheads.

And despite once being young and recalling the lit-up pylon of Hard Rock it was wandering the aisle for all things D.I.Y. and house plants.

So in recognition of Stretford’s B&Q here are a few of Andy Robertson’s pictures from 2016  as the store moved to its demise.

They follow on from some of Andy’s more recent photographs charting the demolition of the building which will live on in the memories of teenage bowling fans, music aficionados and Eric and his Black and Decker drill and pasting trestle.

Location; Great Stone Road

Pictures, Goodbye B&Q, 2016, from the collection of Andy Robertson