Who stole Henry ‘Orator’ Hunt? ……..

Now for those who don’t know Henry ‘Orator’ Hunt was one of the outstanding Radicals of the early 19th century.

Henry 'Orator' Hunt, circa 1820

He had campaigned for the reform of Parliament, called for universal suffrage, and demanded an end to child labour, and was imprisoned for two years for being at Peterloo.

Added to which in 1830 he was elected as the MP for Preston on a radical platform and went on to oppose the Reform Act because it didn’t go far enough.

And given such an illustrious commitment to reform and to Manchester, in 1842 he was commemorated by a monument, which four decades later was stolen.

The statue was not in one of the principle public places in the city but out on the edge, sandwiched between rows of working-class dwellings and in the shadow of a textile mill, and surrounded by an iron works, a chemical plant, and umpteen coal wharfs.

All of which I suppose was an appropriate spot for someone who had spent his adult life promoting equality and demanding a better deal for working people.

The Round Chapel and burial ground, Every Street, 1844

The monument was by all accounts an impressive thing.

The base was nearly six feet square and the plinth on which the monument rested was ten feet square.

There were spacious vaults underneath which were intended for “the remains of those who shall distinguish themselves in promoting the principles advocated by the late Henry Hunt”. *

And beneath the foundation stone were placed, the “memoirs of Henry Hunt, the history of the Peterloo massacre and his letters from Lancaster goal to the Reformers [along with] the placard announcing the ceremony, a copper plate likeness of Mr. Fergus O’Connor, and a copy of the address which was subsequently read to the meeting by Mr. Scholefield”.

Fergus O’Connor was one of the leaders of the Chartist movement and Mr. Scholefield, was the Rev. James Scholefield of the Every Street Chapel, and the monument was erected in the burial ground of the chapel.

Media coverage reported that “no less than 15,000 probably one half of whom were Chartists” [congregated] in Every Street and its neighbourhood”.

The Round Chapel, burial ground and Mr. Hunt's monument, 1851

The address referred to the events at Peterloo and the decision “to perpetuate the memory of Henry Hunt, Esq, and of those who fell in that action, by erecting a public monument and thus show to future generations how the people of these times estimated sterling worth, and how they appreciate genuine patriotism”.  

And that pretty much seems to be what happened over the next decade with leading members of the movement buried beside the monument.

In all five were interred in the grave which was “covered by a flat stone bearing the inscription “Names of the members of the Committee interred beneath.  Peter Rothwell died 6th of September 1847, aged 78 years; George Hadfield, died 12th of January 1848, aged 59 years; George Exley, died 24th of January 1848, aged 79 years; Henry Parry Bennet, died 10th of November 1851, aged 65 years; James Wheeler, died 13th of September 1854, aged 63 years”. **

Peterloo, 1819

Sadly, the passage of time had not been kind to Mr. Hunt’s memorial and when the foundation stone was moved in 1888, the printed material had all but disintegrated and was in the words of an observer “rendered almost to pulp”, but there was a “medal of white metal” which was not mentioned in earlier accounts.

It had the figure of justice on one face and on the other a crown and a scroll bearing the words ‘Maga Charta, Liberty, Unity, Justice” and an inscription in the rim ‘Manchester Political Union, established August 16th, 1838’ ‘Universal suffrage, vote by ballot, annual Parliaments’”. **

And that leads me to the destruction of the monument, which was undertaken on the pretext that it was unsafe, although one visitor to the site at the time was less convinced that this was so.

Peterloo, 1819

Nevertheless, the contractor employed to make good the burial ground which had become neglected, broke the monument up and sold the stone for £3, which was then sold on again to “a man at Irlam-o’-the Height” who subsequently could not be traced.

This act of vandalism was condemned at the time and within days of its destruction an appeal was launched to raise money for a new monument.

There was some disagreement about what form the new memorial should take, with some arguing that the old site was unsuitable give the high wall that surrounded the old burial ground and its position on Every Street, “it had long been practically inaccessible for Manchester people” and a better alternative might be “a small marble tablet near the scene of Peterloo”.***

The Round Chapel, 1959

Today, little is left of the burial ground which is now an open piece of land surrounded by social housing and new build, but the outline of chapel has been preserved.

It was demolished in 1986 and a few of the original grave stones have been preserved.

Alas Mr. Hunt’s memorial is lost forever, although not as I first thought because of a vengeful act of conspiracy on the part anti-democratic forces but out of wanton greed compounded by neglect on the part of the family of the late Rev. Scholefield who had died in 1855.

Still I do have the names of the five interred beside the monument and they may yet bring forth fresh insights into Peterloo and that monument, in the centenary year of that massacre in St Peter’s Fields.

Location; Manchester

Pictures; Henry Hunt, circa. 1810, watercolour, by Adam Buck, 1759–1833, Peterloo, 1819 by Richard Carlile, m01563, Peterloo, 1819, m07589, the Round Chapel, 1959, m6868 , Courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass, the Round Chapel and burial ground, 1844, from the OS map of Manchester and Salford, 1842-44, and the Every Street burial ground, showing Mr. Hunt’s memorial, 1851, from Adshead map of Manchester, 1851, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/

*Monument to the late Henry Hunt, Manchester Guardian, March 27, 1842

**Henry Hunt’s Monument, Manchester Guardian October 6, 1888

***The Henry Hunt Memorial, The Manchester Guardian October 18, 1888

Walking the mean streets of Manchester in the 1880s ………

Now, many of us will have been brought up with the stories of the appalling housing conditions in our cities, towns, and villages in the 19th century.

New gates, 1908

Just a few minute’s stroll from the imposing and elegant Georgian and Victorian government and commercial buildings were scenes of awful poverty, where the casual observer and interested researcher ventured with some trepidation.

The accounts of Dr. Kay, Frederick Engels and a heap of other writers are testimony to “how the other half lived”.

In the later 19th century surveys like that undertaken by Booth and Rowntree catalogued the poverty, and inequality in health, and housing provision.

To these can be added an excellent set of maps and notes on Manchester during the 1880s which like Booth and Rowntree’s work offer-coloured coded maps along with detailed descriptions which come from the reports of the officer of  Health for Manchester.*

I had come across some while researching at Central Ref a few years ago, but last week Craig Thomas offered up a link to a whole of set of digitized maps and reports.

They really are a cornucopia of wonderful things including a map of the Enumerator Districts for the city for 1871, which will make it easier for anyone wanting to locate a street.

44 Angel Meadow, 1900

And that pretty much is that I could say more, but what would be the fun of distracting you from looking for yourself.

That said there is a nice short Manchester Evening News report of how the maps were digitized.

Read more; Manchester Housing Conditions; https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/search/label/Manchester%20housing%20conditions

Location; Manchester

Pictures; Pictures; New gates, 1908, m8316, Angel Street, 1900, m85543, S.L.Coulthurst, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass 

*Victorian Sanitary Survey Maps for Central Manchester, https://luna.manchester.ac.uk/ll/thumbnailView.html?startUrl=%2F%2Fluna.manchester.ac.uk%2Fluna%2Fservlet%2Fas%2Fsearch%3Fos%3D0%26lc%3Dmaps002~1~1%26q%3D%3D%22Project%3A%20Victorian%20Sanitary%20Survey%20Maps%20for%20central%20Manchester%22%26bs%3D100

**Forgotten maps of Manchester slums restored and available to view,  Nigel Barlow -April 3, 2019, https://aboutmanchester.co.uk/forgotten-maps-of-manchester-slums-restored-and-available-to-view/

1883 .......... one year in the work of the Manchester and Salford Children’s charity

Now 1883 was a busy year for our own children’s charity which had been established just thirteen years earlier as a rescue mission to feed and give a bed for the night to destitute boys on the streets of Manchester and Salford.

Outside the Refuge offices, circa 1900

Just over a decade and a bit later it had expanded into a whole range of support activities including homes for both boys and girls, vocational training, seaside holidays, along with campaigning for legislation to protect vulnerable children and intervening in the courts against neglectful and abusive parents.

And the key  to knowing about  the work of the charity, is to start with the annual reports, and at random I have chosen 1883.

It was a busy year but looking at the spread of reports from 1871 through to 1919 it was typical.

And with that in mind I thought it would be useful to focus on that report.*

The first port of call was the newspapers and in particular the Manchester Guardian, and starting next week I shall be delving into the archives.  Like all good research every item begs a whole set of questions which will take me off in all sorts of directions.

But for now it is that year of 1883 and that report.

The report began with the appalling news of the “virtual collapse of old central premises in Strangeways just when the new additional building was almost finished.”

But that hadn’t stopped the completion of extension scheme for Orphan  Girls’ Home Branch or the start of “The Seaside Home for weak, pale faced city children” which had been established at Lytham.

It is easy perhaps to react against the Victorian directness of language but  this and the other summer camps organized by the charity provided children with a holiday by the sea which for many would have been their first.  And some of the 225 children “under our care and training at the Refuge and branch homes” may well have been on one of those trips to the seaside.

The report detailed the gender split, and the number who had had one or both parents still living, and concluded by describing where 118 went onto who didn’t stay in the Refuge.

And that is all for now.

Location Manchester

Picture; courtesy of the Together Trust

* Manchester & Salford Boys’ and Girls’ Refuges, Manchester Guardian, March 12 1884

**The Together Trust, https://www.togethertrust.org.uk/who-we-are

So where was Tudor Street?

 Now, the request was a simple one ……. “did I have any maps showing Tudor Street in Angel Meadow around 1880?”

Tudor Street, 1895

It was as, ever the sort of challenge I enjoy.

But I began the wrong way, for having got the destination of Angel Meadow I went looking at the 1849 OS map of the city, reasoning that much of Angel Meadow had already been developed by the beginning of the 19th century and some pockets were even older.

And I drew a blank.  So, this is the DIY guide to finding a street with little more than a name.

The first step was the directories which list the streets in Manchester and Salford, from the late 1790s, along with an alphabetical list of residents and trades.

They were published each year, which makes them very useful for tracking individuals, but do not always include every street or court or square.  

Yet again poverty which has wiped out so many people from the historical records did the same for many small streets, which were not included either because they were not deemed important enough or the residents didn’t co-operate with the survey.

Tudor Street, 1895

And Tudor Street just wasn’t there, which led to step two, which was an online search of the Rate Books, which include properties across Manchester listed by streets.  These were also published every year, and contain the name of the owner, the tenant, the estimated rent, and rateable value, and often also include a description of the property.

This led to the breakthrough because at no. 4 Tudor Street was a Thomas Barber.  He paid 4.9d a week in rent which was pretty typical of what other tenants wee paying.  I can track him back to 1871 and forward 1894, which offered up the chance of finding him on 3 different census returns.

And that is where I found him for 1881.  Later I will return and trawl all three census records to see what I can find about Mr. Barber, but for now I content to use the census to locate the street, which is easy enough given that at the front each has a description of the location of the street.

The rest was just a matter of a few minutes search because Tudor Street was off Samuel Street, which was off Suddel Street which in turn was off Livesey Street which ran from Rochdale Road down to Oldham Road.

Sadly, it no longer exists, .  It was still thre in 1951 as were all its 29 houses.  Today only Livesey Street has survived but I made a good stab of locating it at the Rochdale Road end.  I didn’t expect to find any photographs of the street in the city’s digital archive, and I didn’t, nor of Samuel, or Suddel Streets, leaving just one of Livesey Street.

Not perhaps the stuff of a Sherlock Holmes story but it pleased me.

Location; Manchester

Picture; Tudor Street in  1895 from the OS map of South Lancashire, 1888-95, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/

Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester nu 37 ........ Market Place again

This is another of those streets which has not only been forgotten but was lost forever in the redevelopment of the area on the northern side of Market Street in the late 1960s and 70s.

Market Place, circa 1886

For the curious wanting to try and locate where it once began on Market Street stand with your back to the Royal Exchange, just a little up from Exchange Street facing Marks and Spencer and you are pretty much looking at it.

Today  there is an echo in the still relatively recently cut  New Cathedral Street heads off in the same direction as our old street.

Mr Kenyon's pun

Now I can’t be sure of the date of the picture, but in 1886 Samuel Kenyon was running the Wellington Inn and opposite him Mr S Hanson was dealing in all manner of “hosiery” shirts and a lot more.

Nine years later and the Wellington was being run by Mrs Elizabeth Kenyon and a Mr James S Hanson is trading from the property opposite.

Of course our picture postcard has been retouched and was sent in 1905, long after Mr Samuel Kenyon had passed on.

All of which is a lesson in what you do with a picture postcard of a historic part of the city.

And that is about it.

There will be people who remember the old Market Place and the shed load of little streets courts and alleys that led off.

Market Place circa 1880s

Which just leads me to make an appeal for any stories, pictures or memories of the place that Derek the Developer did for it

I am sure that these may well include some of those fascinating places with names like Blue Boar Court, Bull Heads Yard, Sun Entry and Angel Yard.

Well we shall see.

And for the very observant, yes Market Place did feature in an early story in the series, but back then I had forgotten I had this fine image of the place, and so what goes round comes round.

Or something like that.

Now for those wanting to recreate the walk, you can't.

New Cathedral Street, 2016

The best I can offer is the map, some pictures which can be found on Manchester's Local Image Collection and New Cathedral Street, which as I said almost follows the same route.

Location; Manchester

Picture; Market Place, circa 1886, from the collection of Mrs Bishop, New Cathedral Street, 2016 from the collection of Andrew Simpson,  and and the area in the circa 1880s from Goad’s Fire Insurance Maps, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

The twisty, turny tale of Elizabeth Jane Dean …….. Didsbury, Manchester and Heaton Mersey

If there were  ever any pictures of the people who lived in Warburton Street at the beginning of the last century they have all been lost, or at best sit in an album, or cupboard, unlikely ever to see daylight.

No. 4 Warburton Street, 2020

And that is a shame because we know who they were, and something of their lives and families.

By extension it is possible to uncover many of the residents of the five cottages on the south side of the street back to 1845, along with the man who built and owned them.

The question as ever, is who to pick, and just what their stories might tell us about Didsbury.

I started with 1911, partly because I had the street directory for that year in front of me, and because the 1911 census was the most detailed of the eight census returns for the years 1841-1911.

Of the five, number 2 was occupied by John Crompton and Sons, and was listed as “paint stores”, no, 4 was William Richardson, plate layer, and no.6 was Mrs. Emma Smith who described herself as “Householder, but who I know was a “launderess”.

To which I can add that later in 1911, no 8, was home to the Schofield family, and that Mr. Walter Schofield was a “night soil man", and at no. 10 were the Blomileys, two of who worked as labourers, one was a charwoman and the youngest member of the family was a “gardener’s apprentice”.

And to complete the picture, while Mrs. Smith lived alone in her four roomed cottage, the six members of the Schofields has to manage in their two up two down, and the Blomiley’s to squeeze their lot into just three rooms.

The occupations of our residents might seem at variance with the popular image of Didsbury as a well healed and comfortably prosperous suburb of Manchester, but amongst the professionals, and wealthy business families there were still many who made their living from servicing “the better off”.

Barlow Moor, 1854

Mrs. Smith would have washed their linen, young Jane Blomiley cleaned their houses, and Mr. Schofield and one of the Blomiley’s were engaged as night soil men removing the contents of the privies of the rich.

And that left Mr. William Richardson a platelayer who ensured that the tracks on the stretch of line from Didsbury Railway Station to Manchester  Central were up to the scratch.

But instead of these families it is the story of Miss Elizabeth Jane Dean who captured my interest.

In the January of 1911 she was living on the opposite side of street, by the April had moved to Countess Road, of Hardman Street and earlier had lived at both no. 4, as well as no. 1 Warburton Street.

Added to which she spent her early years in the heart of the city in the space between the Rochdale and Ashton Canals behind Great Ancoats Street.

She was born in Didsbury in 1860 and was living on Warburton Street by the following year with her mother and sister. Over the next few years, the family moved to Hardman Street, but are lost to the records after 1866, until Elizabeth Jane turned up in Ancoats on Lees Street in 1871, living with her grandmother.

Elizabeth Jane's Manchester, 1881

Just where her mother was living is unclear, and a decade later Elizabeth Jane is just a few streets away, staying with her uncle and aunt, and described herself as a “Winder”, before reappearing in Didsbury, back with her mother on Warburton Street in 1891.

Trying to unpick the story underneath the census return is complicated, open to speculation and may just not be my business.

But her mother at some point had married a Mr. Blomiley, but by 1891 was a widow.

She shared the house with a son who carried the name Blomiley, and Elizabeth Jane, and a grandson aged two, whose surname was Dean.

It would be easy to leap to the conclusion that the young grandson was Elizabeth Jane’s, and certainly a decade later Elizabeth Jane acknowledged that this was her son and records a second one born in 1896 when she would have been 36.

All of which is rather murky and leaves me reflecting on what Elizabeth Jane might have made of her life in the city, in an area sandwiched between those two canals, and surrounded by textile factories, iron works and coal yards.

It goes without saying that this new world of noise, steam, and  drab streets would have been a world away from Didsbury which in the 1870s still had the appearance of a rural community even if it was filling up with houses and people.

I cannot be sure just when Elizabeth Jane gave up the factory and the house on the street by the canal, but her eldest son was born in Didsbury in the summer of 1888, which gives us a possible date.

Her later life was spent as a “tailoress”, and the last reference to her so far comes from the 1911 census which records her living on Countess Street, just minutes away from where she began life in 1860, living with her eldest son, and an Elizabeth Ann Woods aged 31.

A decade earlier Miss Woods was described as the foster sister of our Elizabeth Jane, which raises some intriguing questions about who her parents were given that she lived at no. 4  Warburton Street with Mary Blomiley and Elizabeth Jane.

Heaton Bank House, 1851

So that is about it.

We began on Warburton Street, and have pretty much ended up there, having travelled into the city and back out again, explored the occupations of some of the residents and along the way discovered a little of the life of one Didsbury resident.

But not quite, because just as I was finishing, I came across Mary Dean, who had been born in 1828, baptized in St James Parish Church, and at the age of 32 had given birth to Elizabeth Jane. Her father was a handloom weaver, and in 1841 the family lived in Barlow Moor.

Ten years later and Mary was a employed as a house servant at Mersey Bank House in Heaton Norris, whose owner was the grand Sir Ralph Pendlebury, who proudly recorded on his census return that he was not only a Knight but a factory owner, “employing 170 hands”.

All of which I think will takes us off on a new journey.

But before I do, I am adding a comment from John S Horton, "Sir- regarding the gentleman engaged as a plate layer, being an ex railwayman born in Didsbury but growing up in Kent, 'platelayers' worked on and were allocated 'patches' of line for which they were responsible for maintaining, not only the track but also the vegetation on the embankments and drainage, but the 'patch' was only 2 miles long, and therefore the gentleman would not have been responsible nor would it be possible for him to maintain the line as far as Manchester Central. Such a distance would have engaged several Plate layers or even gangs to maintain however I am happy to be corrected if my understanding is incorrect".

Adding, "sorry to have disrupted your wonderful tale, - the platelayer would have been under the authority of the “District Engineer” . Said platelayer would notify the signalman of his “direction of work” be it towards “Withington and Albert Park” Station ( Down Line) or towards the bridge over the track carrying “Kingsway”., (Up Line). 

The signalman would notify the platelayer of any reported track issues by train crew, be it “wet patch” caused by blocked drainage, making the train bounce as it went over and if at line speed could cause a derailment, engaging the platelayer having to “dig out the offending patch and re pack with fresh ballast” or by simply jacking up the track with his portable bottle jack and placing a simple soup tin full or less of small stones/ gravel to level the track up. I could go on and on but don’t want to bore you lo

".

Location; Didsbury, Manchester, and Heaton Mersey

Pictures; No. 4 Warburton Street, 2020, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, Barlow Moor, 1854, & Heaton Mersey, 1854, from the OS map of Lancashire, 1854, Elizabeth Janes’ Manchester between the two canals, 1894 from the OS map of South Lancashire, courtesy of Digital Archives Association,  http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

“We have longed that we could take each child and transplant it into a happy Christian home” ........ looking into the work of a children’s charity no. 2*

I am as guilty as many of not looking deeply enough into the motivation that drove those men and women who ran our children’s charities in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and did their utmost to improve the lot of young people who at best were living precarious lives and at worst were destitute with some on the edge of crime.

In the rush to look at the cause of the scandal and the variety of responses, the motives of those engaged in the work tend to get glossed over and relegated to that vague acknowledgement of “Christian values” and a humanitarian concern for those less fortunate.

And in the case of the migrating agencies there is that darker assumption that the move to send children to Canada and other parts of the empire was nothing more than a ruthless cost cutting exercise where the bill for maintaining young people in care was more than the price of transporting them across the Atlantic.

It is an analysis which perhaps fits with a more cynical view of how the authorities weighed up the care of the poor and one that I fully embraced.

But history is messy and open to all sorts of interpretations and even that comment attributed to Dr Barnardo that the children migrated were “the building blocks of Empire” is easy to misrepresent.

So I think it is time to dig deeper into the ideas of those men and women engaged in the work of our own children’s charity.

A story which can be found in  the new book on the Together Trust which as the Manchester and Salford Boys’ and Girls’ Refuges was responsible to “turning around” the lives of many very poor children.**

The starting point has been the reports of the annual meetings and the charity’s own publications, including its monthly magazine, the fund raising pamphlets and those given over to advancing practical solutions to child street labour and feckless parents.

What comes over time and time again is the outrage that young lives were being wasted and that in the absence of alternative provision children were being exploited, abused and in some cases left to live on the streets.

Added to that there was a strong Christian  belief, but one which did not get in the way of helping either the young people or those parents who through no fault of their own found themselves on the extreme margin of poverty.

The annual reports stressed that the overriding principle was never to turn the deserving away and that the “door was always open.”

In the same way the “team” went looking to help, whether it was on the streets where they encountered homeless children or back streets and enclosed courts of the twin cities.***

In Angel Meadow reckoned to be one of the worst slums they called on a Mrs J one Sunday evening in the February of 1880 who confided “I’ve striven hard to keep them out of the workhouse, and now what’ll become of them?”  She had made a living as a street hawker but was now too ill to move out of her bed.

The eldest two, a lad of 20 and his sister aged 18 were in prison and remaining four were in desperate need of help. All were “fine children [and] it was wonder to see them so fresh and ruddy in such a locality.

Probably, as they grew up, the bloom would pass away; but whatever the physical atmosphere might be, there could be no mistake about the moral atmosphere surrounding them.”****

And so while there was a need for the four to be placed in a Christian home, the real issue was about taking the children out of the environment no matter the cost and in the process the report touched on the very contentious and current debate on the rights of the parent over the perceived needs of the child.

It is never an easy one to reconcile and I have seen arguments advanced that in some cases this led to charities making judgements which were high handed and brutal.

That said “our four” went into the care of the Refuge with the permission of the mother.

At which point there will be some who are uncomfortable with the heavy Christian emphasis of the report which concluded with the team “speaking a few words of Him who never yet cast out one who truly came to Him” and reflecting that “we can each help to cast a rope over the ship’s side, to help the poor sinking ones below, drawing them safely home to that blessed Home where there shall be no more misery and sin for ‘there  the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.”

But this also was underscored by a very practical commitment, reflected in another report in the Worker which detailed the care in the four of the homes run by the charity in Lower Broughton in Salford.

The four were home to fifty-eight boys and young men all of whom had been trained and found jobs, ranging from painters to organ builders, joiners and engravings.*****

And the idea of helping young people to help themselves was also at the core of the charities work.  There were vocational training homes, "brigades of young lads" as well training for girls in an assortment of skills.

The Refuge stressed the need for good vocationl education provided by the State.

Next; singling out some of those who served the charity.

Location; Manchester and Salford

Pictures; from the Worker, 1880

*A new book on the Together Trust, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/A%20new%20book%20on%20the%20Together%20Trust

**The Worker, February 1880

***Manchester and Salford

**** The Worker, February 1880

***** No.1 Home for Working Boys, Sussex Street, No. 2, 214 Broughton Road, No. 3, St John’s Place, Great Clowes Street, and No. 4, 8 Camp Street

When Mrs. Jane Knapman of New Cross made the Manchester Guardian ……

Mrs Jane Knapman lived on Dennett’s Road, just off Queens Road at number 64.

Breaking news, 1885

I will have passed it most days during the 1950s and early 60s as I made my way from Lausanne Road down Mona Road, and on first to Edmund Waller School and then Samuel Pepys.

And it would have been on the route to call on John Cox who lived on the other side of Dennett’s Road.

All of which is an introduction to a story of a fire in 1885, which appeared in the Manchester Guardian later the same day.

I suppose some might murmur that it must have been a slow news day in Manchester for the paper to report the incident and even more so for people to read of a “Destructive Fire in London …. Narrow Escape”*

Equally there will be those in London who see the news story as confirmation that even a minor fire in a small road in southeast London proves the pre-eminence of the city.

The full story, 1885

But not so, this was still the first big period of mass news when papers across the country fell on stories and events from John O’Groats to Land End to feed the insatiable curiosity of the public.

Go back into the early decades of the 19^th century and murky stories of murders, sensational robberies and cases of infanticide were regularly picked up by all the regional press and passed on.

The Dennett’s Road fire was no different.  It had begun in the early hours of Tuesday was “an alarming and destructive character, by which two aged and infirm persons nearly lost their lives.”

And the story included great heroism as two policemen and a neighbour repeatedly went back into the blazing property to rescue two of the occupants.  “Constable Thursday rushed in through the suffocating smoke and found Mrs. Knapman in her bed almost unconscious … [and taking] her in his arms with some difficulty succeeded in carrying her safely into the street”

And while Constable Simpson tried to rescue Mrs. Mary Ann Saunders “who is almost bedridden” she was saved by a “neighbour James Jacobs of no.60 Dennett’s Road who twice ran into the burning building before successfully reaching Mrs. Saunders and carried the woman to the window where police constable Simpson received her”.

Dennett's Road, 1872

No sooner had Mr. Jacobs made his escape than the flames burst through the floor, and all seven rooms including the contents “were reduced to ashes”.

Along with the two elderly woman, Mr Knapman and a young woman Annie Cole escaped.

On the surface it is a pretty humdrum story despite the drama, but there is more.

I know that Mrs. Knapman who had been born in 1795 and her son were living in the house in 1881, and were still there a decade later, suggesting that despite the devastation to the house it was rebuilt.

In time I will go looking for the stories of all four, along with Albert Sanderson and his widowed mother who were lodgers in the house in 1881, and the five people who were squeezed into no. 64 a decade later.

Their occupations offer up a snapshot of the area in the 1890s.  So while John Knapman was a wheelwright working for the railways, two of the lodgers described themselves as “Railway Carriage cleaners”, Emily Hodge and her daughter were “needlewoman on shirts” and the youngest resident was a labourer.

And here there is the hint of tragedy, because Emily Hodge was a widow at 38, which replicated the story of Marian Sanderson who lived with the Knapman’s ten years earlier who was widowed by the age of 44.

Lausanne Road, 2007

Nor can I walk away without mentioning James Jacobs who was 30 years old, married to Sarah and worked as a “Leather Bag Maker”.

Together they had four children aged between 8 and just 6 months, and who had spent the early years of their marriage in the City of London and later in Surrey and had only recently settled in New Cross.

So it’s all a twisty turny story made more so because I had originally been trawling the Manchester Guardian for a piece on a Mrs. Wild who officiated at the introduction of street gas lamps in Chorlton-cum-Hardy.

What caught my eye was the breaking news that in 1885 the “Madras municipality in India had extended the suffrage to women”.  There was no more just the statement that the news had come from “Madras states by telegram”.

And below that was story of the destructive fire in Dennett’s Road.

Just shows what random history can throw up.  And yes in the absence of a picture of no.64 Dennett's Road which has vanished, I include our house on Lausanne Road .... because I can.

Location; New Cross & Manchester

Picture; the news story from the Manchester Guardian, 1885, Lausanne Road, 2007 from the collection of Liz and Colin Fitzpatrick, and Dennett’s Road in 1872, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, https://digitalarchives.co.uk/

*“Destructive Fire in London Narrow Escape”. Manchester Guardian, September 28^th, 1885 

A name and a clue to a family from Little Italy in Ancoats in 1881

Your name is a very important part of your identity and for some people in some parts of the world it is an immediate clue to where the family originated from.

So in the case of our Italian family the name suggests two hot spots, one in the north of Italy and the other in the south around Naples.

And that is pretty much spot on, for while they and some of the extended family live outside Milan they come from Naples.

But what if the name is difficult to read as it so often is on old official documents?  Well in my case I have some experts on hand to help out, but sadly the jury is still out on the verdict and so I have to go with my guess.

The name is Fuski and they lived at 43 Gun Street in the heart of Little Italy* in the spring of 1881.  This much I know, and while I cannot be certain of the spelling, there is much I do know about them.

Joseph and his wife Carolina were from Naples and they arrived in Manchester sometime around 1877, with their two daughters.

Now I can be fairly sure about the date because their third child Mary was born in Manchester in 1877.

He was a musician and seems to have attracted other musicians to him.  This may have had a lot to do with the fact that he rented number 43 Gun Street, and as things go found room for three of his cousins in the family home.

But he also found space for another ten people of which six were also musicians, one who worked as a General Servant and two were children.

All but two of this additional large group were also from Naples and both of these like Mary Fuski were children.

It makes for one of those insights into how people settled in a new country.  Here and in three other houses on the street could be found all the Italians, mostly from either Naples or Genova, choosing  to live with people they knew and could rely on to help them out.

In the case of young Joseph Fuski aged just two who was born in Scotland it is a hint that his parents may either have settled first across the border or were performing there when the boy was born and then travelled south to live with their cousin.

Now the Fuski family lived on that stretch of Gun Street which runs from Blossom Street to George Leigh Street and in 1881 it consisted of 20 houses and 125 people.  Of these just over 32% were born in Italy with 43% from Manchester and the rest from Ireland, and other parts of Britain.

This was a young community where over 37% were under the age of 16 and just 5% over 55.

And the degree of its youthfulness is even more marked when you single out those from Italy.

 For here there was no one over the age of 46 and all but 9 were between 20 and 40 years of age.

I guess those in the know would point to this group being the most likely to seek a new life and new challenges in a new country.  Few were married and even fewer had children.

And it follows that most of these young Italians were destined to live as sub tenants in what looks to be very overcrowded conditions.  Of the four Italian households, the numbers recorded in each were 23, 16, 14 and 7, in properties which contained just four rooms.

Not that the level of overcrowding in some of the houses was much better, but that as they say is another story for another time.

As for the Fuski family they disappear from the records but that may at present just be because I have the name wrong, and so I eagerly await help which may allow their story to grow.

*Little Italy is the area behind Great Ancoats Street, and was defined by, Jersey Street, Blossom Street, Georhe Leigh Street, running north and Gun Street, Henry Street and Cotton Street which crossed them on an east west line.  Here from 1865 there was a growing vibrant Italian community.


Pictures; Gun Street by A Bradburn, 1904, m11342, surviving houses on Gun Street, 1962 by T Brooks, m11344, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Councildata taken from 1881 Census, Enu 4 Ancoats, Manchester, Lancashire

Behind number 14 Major Street in the winter of 1905

14 Major Street, 1905

Now as ever there is a story behind this picture.

We are on Major Street in 1905 and the building is the Boys’ and Girls’ Refuge which was established in 1884.

It was the second shelter opened by the Manchester & Salford Boys’ & Girls’ Refuges offering food and shelter to destitute young people.

The first shelter had been opened by the charity on Quay Street and later relocated to Strangeways but the scale of the problem was such that one refuge was not enough.

That lack of provision was highlighted “in the winter months of 1871 when three boys applied at the Refuge looking for shelter. 

As the home was already full, they had to be turned away. Seeking warmth and shelter and being unable to afford three pence to stay in a lodging house for the night they had wandered up to the brickfields of Cheetham. 

A few days later a newspaper reported on the demise of a young boy who had been burned to death at one of the brick kilns in the neighbourhood. This boy was one of the three who had, had to be turned away much to the consternation of the committee. 

It was this incident that convinced the charity that they needed another building in which to receive any child in need of help, whatever the hour. 

On admittance, date unknown

The result was the Children’s Shelter at 14 Major Street. Open all day and all night children in need of shelter could be brought and receive food and a bed for the night, whilst their individual circumstances were investigated. It ensured that no child requesting aid would ever be turned away again.”*

The story comes from the excellent blog of the Together Trust which describes the work of the Manchester & Salford Boys’ & Girls’ Refuges during the 19th and 20th centuries and is a first stop forthose wanting to trace family members who were cared for by the charity.

I am always impressed by the extent of their archives and the help offered by the archivist to those who want to know more about an ancestor.

Sadly for anyone wanting to stand in front of number 14 Major Street it has long gone.

To be truthful there is very little left of Major Street which runs from Aytoun Street down to Princess Street

Major Street in 1886**

On the corner with Princess Street there is the old Mechanics Institute where the TUC met in 1868, but walk the length of the road today and it  is dominated by two car parks a whole tranche of huge office blocks dating from the end of the last century and the beginning of this one and stuck in the middle is the bus station.

As for number 14 which was on the right hand side just down from Aytoun Street that is now one of those car parks.

At which point I could I suppose regret its passing but it was just a building and the work of the charity still goes and in the fullness of time I hope the archivist will be able to shed some light on what life was like at number 14 Major Street.

Reading back stories from the blog there is much that would help anyone wanting to know about its work and much to set interested descendants on a path of discovery.

All of which leaves me to point you in the direction of that blog and in particular the rest of the story on the opening of number 14.


Pictures; 14 Major Street, 1905 and one of the young people cared for by the Trust courtesy of the Together Trust, http://togethertrustarchive.blogspot.co.uk/p/about-together-trust.html

*The Second Annual Meeting, http://togethertrustarchive.blogspot.co.uk/

**Slater's Directory of Manchester & Salford, 1886. [Part 2: Trades, Institutions, Streets], page 508, Historical Directories, http://cdm16445.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/search/collection/p16445coll4/searchterm/Lancashire/field/place/mode/exact/conn/and/order/nosort

A Didsbury picture ……. an 1885 sales catalogue ….. and the story of Johnson, Clapham & Morris .... makers of all things galvanized iron

Now, I remain fascinated at the route which took me from a framed page of a sales catalogue on a wall in a house in Didsbury via a shop in Pembrokeshire back a century and more to Johnson, Clapham & Morris, makers of all things galvanized iron.

The framed Lamp Belge from the sales catalogue, 1889

The framed sales catalogue was a present to a friend , who having admired it in the said shop got it as a Christmas present.

And in turn when Barbarella posted the picture to me I knew there was a story, although just where it would take me was unclear.

As ever the starting point was the name of the firm and its location on Lever Street in town.  There is no property number on the catalogue, but the directories placed the firm at 24/26 Lever Street, which is between Stevenson Square and Bunsen Street.

They were here by 1886, and it will be easy to track back to when they left their premise at 27 Dale Street.  I know that they were on Dale Street in 1876, and that they had a warehouse in Liverpool and offices on Winchester Street in London, with their works in Newton Heath.

According to that excellent source, Grace’s Guide to British Industrial History, the company was founded sometime around 1814, and they specialized in “reinforced brickwork and the clothing of steel-framed and reinforced concrete buildings”, which rather skates over the detail, which was pretty much everything involving metal. *

Johnson, Clapham and Morris, Lever Street, 1886

Their 1876 poster announced  that they were “Iron, Tin Plate, Wire and Metal Merchants, manufacturers of Galvanized Wire Netting, and Sheep Fencing,  Strong Wove Wire for Malt Kiln Floors, Smutt Machines and Mining Purposes”, along with Miner’s Safety Lamps and Lightning Conductors”.

So, I am not surprised that thirteen years later their catalogue included The Lamp Belge, which I am guessing were copied from the original designs which were made in Belgium.

The company was still in business in 1961 when they were “Engaged as metal, electrical and hardware manufacturers and factors, [with] 560 employees.”**

I took a virtual wander down Dale Street and Lever Street, and both sites are still occupied by what look to be late 19th or early 20th century buildings, but I am  not sure if either were connected to Johnson, Clapham & Morris.

Goad’s Fire Insurance maps of 1884 show the firm’s office and warehouse taking up all of the space between Stevenson Square and Bunsen Street, and suggests they were one building, whereas today number 26 is different in design and size from number 24.

The choice of lamps, 1886

All of which leaves me to go off and compare the 1884 map with later ones.

And there I thought the story had ended but not so, because Grace’s Guide offered up one little and very personal surprise, which was that Mr. Richard Johnson died at his home in Chislehurst in Kent, a place I knew well, and one where my girlfriend of the time lived.

I followed her north in 1969, which was not the best way to choose a degree course, especially as she returned home three months later.

I stayed and have yet to find way back.  But that is a story for another time.

Location; Didsbury, Manchester

Pictures; The Lamp Belge, from the 1889 sales catalogue of Johnson, Clapham & Morris, courtesy of Barbarella Bonvento, the warehouse of Johnson, Clapham & Morris, from Goad’s Fire Insurance Maps, Lever Street, 1886, courtesy of Digital Archives Association,  http://digitalarchives.co.uk/ 

* Grace’s Guide to British Industrial History, https://www.gracesguide.co.uk/Richard_Johnson,_Clapham_and_Morris?fbclid=IwAR06SdLJWpL2hEwB1-6Dqo1Opshx6DLaQ7sSWSFY9J_yRL7E9fu_WXT30JA

**ibid Grace’s

Another side to the remarkable Mr Banks, celebrated photographer and now artist

Trade card, 1885

Now somewhere I know I will find at least one of the three “life size busts , painted in oil on canvas, from photographs” of “Messrs, John Slagg, Jacob Bright and Robert Leake.”*

And in the fullness of time I will also unearth a picture of Cheetham Reform Club which was on the corner of Bignor Street and Heywood Street.

It was opened in 1882, and I suppose it was fitting that these three paintings should have been commissioned by the Club because back in 1880  John Slagg and Jacob Bright had laid the foundation stone for the building and with their fellow MP Robert Leake had spoken of the importance of the new club to Cheetham.

Along with a large local crowd there was a "special party" who had made their way from that other Reform Club in the centre of Manchester and had arrived in a hired coach.

Looking at maps of the period it was an impressive pile with a large bowling green set in open spaces on the edge of some densely packed housing.

From the Manchester Guardian, 1882

But the Reform Club was not what drew me into the story that was our old friend the photographer Robert Banks, who rose from fairly humble beginnings to be a well known Manchester photographer.

Many of his public photographs of the city and including lots of public events are still available as are the personal photographic images of people who attended his studios, but until now I had no idea that he also painted.

Selling Valentin Cards 1872

I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised given that he was at one time employed by the Oldham Chronicle as an “illustrated artist” and later when he opened his own studio at Uppermill in 1867 he advertised Valentine Cards.

But there is the first reference to something as grand as full scale paintings.

A royal event, 1911

All of which points up that simple observation that there is always more to find out about things and as I finish writing this I have in front of me a photograph by Mr Banks which I haven’t seen before.

It is of the visit of Edward VII and Alexandra for the official opening of the new Manchester Royal Infirmary on Oxford Road in 1909.

Now this is quite surprising given that he was very effective at publishing his own work much of which appeared in souvenir collections soon after the great event had occurred.

And in this I have been lucky in that my friend Sally came across one of these books, “much knocked about, missing its cover and spine but full of wonderful images of Manchester.”

So there you have it, another story on Mr Banks with a side of the man I knew nothing of and the hope that his paintings will emerge from the shadows.

Pictures; trade card advertising Robert Bank’s studios circa 1885 and advert from the Oldham Chroncile, 1872, courtesy of Saddleworth Museum, http://www.saddleworthmuseum.co.uk/, newspaper report from the Manchester Guardian and  the Royal visit, 1909, Robert Banks, m72040, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass

*Cheetham Reform Club, Manchester Guardian, September 20 1882

Who was Martha Alice Walsh? ….. a new story from Anthony Hewitt

Martha Alice Walsh was that bonny baby wrapped in her mother’s shawl, the lonely girl in a school playground, her granny’s little helper, daughter, future wife, mother. 

And suffragette? A typical Northern lass raised on over-generous shares of hardships, disease, war and coal dust, with a will of iron forged in the foundries of Manchester.

To really know, understand and appreciate Martha and her life experiences it is necessary to consider some other persons who had shaped her life – parents, grandparents, siblings, partners, children.

Martha had been born in a small house in South Street, Hulme, 13th March 1874*, daughter of James Walsh, baker, and his wife Mary Ann Brownbill, who had married in Salford, in a timely way some 9 months earlier**. However, whilst they had been able to register Martha’s birth, for whatever reason no christening had taken place during that year.

1922 OS 25” Map of Embden Street / Boundary Lane Area of Hulme [NLS]

The family had moved to Blanshard Street, Chorlton-upon-Medlock, closer to the home of Mary Ann’s parents. Fairly soon after their move Mary Ann contracted broncho-pneumonia and sadly died 9th September 1876***. 

An immediate consequence was that Martha, then 2½ years old, had to go and live with her grandparents, John and Susannah Brownbill, which had enabled her father to continue his work. But the time all too soon arrived for Martha to be registered for attendance at her local school, St John the Baptist CofE. So it was that Martha Alice Walsh, then 4 years old, living in Meredith Street, Hulme, had been baptised by Rev. R. H. Godwin at St John the Baptist Church, Embden Street, on 22nd September 1878****. The 1881 Census***** records Martha still living with her grandparents, whilst her father, James Walsh, still working as a baker, had lodged in Medlock Court, Chorlton-on-Medlock******.

1881 Census for 28 Meredith Street, Hulme, 1964

Later in the same year, her father married Elizabeth Ainsworth at St Mark’s Church, Hulme, with whom he would start a new family. But perhaps Martha had remained living with her grandparents

Blanshard Street, Chorlton-Upon-Medlock, 1964

At this point in the story, it is worth noting that none of the homes mentioned would have had electricity, as may be judged from the 1964 photo of houses in Meredith Street. 

Heating, lighting and cooking would have been provided in varying degrees by wood, coal, gas and candles. 

Electrical cables seen on the outside would not have been provided until many decades later, in the 20th Century.

Three years later, death would again cast a shadow over Martha, this time to claim the life of her Grandmother Susannah Brownbill in 1884. 

Meredith Street, Hulme, 1964

With scarcely time to mourn, John Brownbill had married Mary Kelsall only 1 year later, in 1885, an event that would surely have caused confusion in her young mind. 

We cannot know the feelings of Martha who, at the age of 11 years, was on the brink of womanhood, with emotions surely wavering between happiness for her Grandfather and loathing for his betrayal of her Grandmother. 

Moreover, Elizabeth had given birth to daughter, Ada – half-sister to Martha – in 1885. 

We may surmise that John Brownbill and James Walsh had decided that it was time for Martha “come home” to live with her father and to assist her stepmother. The 1891******* Census provides a cold record that James, Elizabeth and Martha did indeed share a home in Walter Street, St Clements Ward, Ardwick. That census shows Martha had worked as a Fancy Box Maker, and shared her home with 3 half-siblings, Ernest, 8, Ada, 5, and Reuben, 3.

Walter Street, Ardwick, seen from Fairfield Street, 1902

Elizabeth Walsh had given birth to her final child, Arthur James, in October 1891, which a subsequent event 10 years later would demonstrate had brought some happiness to Martha. Sadly, little Arthur succumbed to acute bronchitis 11 months later. Death would again cast a dark shadow in 1895 when TB claimed the life of Ada, shortly before her 10th birthday.

The 1901 Census******** records James and Elizabeth Walsh still living in the same house in Walter Street. Their eldest son Ernest Walsh, 18, living at home was recorded working as a Van Driver’s Assistant. Although his employer was not recorded – three railway goods yards (LNWR, GCR, MR) were walking distance from Walter Street. His younger brother, Reuben, 12, was still at school.

The whereabouts of Martha Alice Walsh was not recorded.

This is not the end for Martha, but it is an appropriate moment to pause the story.

Photographs: 1922 OS 25” Map of Boundary Lane / Embden Street Area of Hulme; https://maps.nls.uk/geo/explore/#zoom=18&lat=53.46553&lon=-2.24178&layers=168&b=1 

Manchester: Blanshard Street, Chorlton-upon-Medlock; 1964, J Ryder, ML m18654, Meredith Street, Hulme; 1964, J. Ryder, ML m2630, Walter Street, Ardwick, seen from Fairfield Street; 1902, A. Bradburn, ML m49783 courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council,   http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass

References:

* Birth Certificate for Martha Alice Walsh, GRO Ref. 1874-Q2, Chorlton, Vol. 8c, Page 797; John Anthony Hewitt Collection. 

** Marriage Certificate for James Walsh & Mary Ann Brownbill, GRO Ref. 1873-Q2, Salford, Vol. 8d, Page 78; John Anthony Hewitt Collection.

*** Death Certificate for Mary Ann Walsh, GRO Ref. 1876-Q3, Chorlton, Vol. 8c, Page 459; John Anthony Hewitt Collection.

**** St John the Baptist Parish Record, Baptisms, 1869 Nov. – 1884 Nov., Page 181, Entry No. 1447; John Anthony Hewitt Collection.

***** 1881 Census for Martha Alice Walsh: https://www.ancestry.co.uk/imageviewer/collections/7572/images/LANRG11_3935_3939-0535?pId=10457901 

****** 1881 Census for James Walsh, Baker: https://www.ancestry.co.uk/imageviewer/collections/7572/images/LANRG11_3918_3922-0883?pId=10376392 

******* 1891 Census for James Walsh, Baker: https://www.ancestry.co.uk/imageviewer/collections/6598/images/LANRG12_3238_3240-0068?pId=6270110

******** 1901 Census for James Walsh: https://www.ancestry.co.uk/imageviewer/collections/7814/images/LANRG13_3745_3747-0872?pId=23570617