Of endings and new beginnings at the bottom of Edge Lane

Now subways have always appealed to the child in me although they are only pale imitations of the two foot tunnels under the Thames where I grew up and the Underground.

When I was younger those foot tunnels were magic and the adventure began with the descent in the lift or better still the spiral staircase and then the long walk under the river, with the floor gently sloping down before rising again as we reached North Woolwich.

Most of the time, you were pretty much on your own with just the echo of your own footsteps and perhaps a conversation from two strangers far away at the other end of the tunnel.

And in its own way the Underground could also be seductive, whisking you all over the city and beyond on journeys deep below the surface which only came out into daylight for brief moments or at the very end of the line.

And along with the speed and the darkness there was that smell particularly strong in the summer which was blown towards you as the tube hurtled into the station.

By comparison the subway linking two sets of pavements is small beer and as I get older they are places to avoid. They are dark and lonely and at times threatening, but are ones which generations of planners have thought were alright to make us use, thereby freeing up the surface for traffic.

Andy Robertson has been down at the Stretford end of Edge Lane commenting that “there is 6 months worth of ‘improvements’ going on at Chester Road/Edge Lane so I thought I'd investigate. The subway from the Metro Stop to old town hall is still open but the one on the other side is now blocked off. Went under the tunnel for probably only the third or fourth time in my life.”

All of which is three times more than me.

But I notice that at on one side of Edge Lane work is in progress and there is a big hole, but I am too lazy to check out the planning site to find out what exactly is going on or what the improvements promise.

I am confident someone will tell me, and in the meantime I also know that Andy will be back to record the progress.

And a thank you to Pawel who did the business and checked out the planning portal for Trafford, which said the improvement works are "in the form of highway alignment changes, filling of existing substation crossing points, provision of controlled crossings, traffic signal improvements, footway and carriageway improvements, installation of features, planting of trees and shrubs and other various public realm enhancements. | Junction Of Chester Road, Kingsway And Edge Lane, Stretford, M32 0LG"*

So there you have it and thank you Pawel.

Location; Edge Lane

Pictures; down on Edge Lane, 2017 from the collection of Andy Robertson

*Planning Application Summary, Trafford Council, 88926/EIASCR/16, http://publicaccess.trafford.gov.uk/online-applications/applicationDetails.do?activeTab=summary&keyVal=OA8XGSQL01000

So what was he doing in Haywards Heath in the arms of a Red Cross nurse?

Now this postcard has set me thinking.

The caption is easy enough to follow........... “The Manchesters are holding their own at Haywards Heath.”

It leaves little to the imagination but perhaps offers up a challenge to historic accuracy.

I am pretty sure that none of the eight Pals’ Battalions went through the army camp at Haywards Heath on their way to France and the Western Front in September and November 1915.

Their route took them from the North West to Grantham and then Salisbury with some then making the short journey to Southampton and the rest to Folkestone or Dover.

It could of course be the Regulars are the Territorial battalions but as yet I haven’t done the research.

Or it may just be an enterprising postcard company cynically using the Manchester’s and no doubt substituting the names of the Lancashire Fusiliers or the West Kent’s to a standard image of a soldier and a nurse.

That way you can be pretty sure that someone will buy a card.

All of that said I like the image which David Harrop sourced for me and which was the final picture postcard to make its way into the book Manchester and the Great War which was published in February of this year.

But that is another story.

Location; Haywards Heath

Picture; “The Manchesters are holding their own at Haywards Heath” from the collection of David Harrop

*A new book on Manchester and the Great War, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/A%20new%20book%20on%20Manchester%20and%20the%20Great%20War

A Tale of Two Countries ...... by Norma Davis Cook ... .... part three

By  the time Bert had turned eighteen and his contract was fulfilled, he decided to stay at the farm and work for wages. The Clendennings had no children of their own and were quite satisfied with Bert, so they decided to request a girl from the Middlemore Home.  Mrs. Clendenning was very specific in stating her wishes:  “Will you please send me a nice smart little girl, age 11 or 12 years old, good looking with dark hair.  I will adopt her and give her a good home.”  In May of 1920, twelve-year-old Mary Priscilla Pitt joined the Clendenning household.

Albert (Bert) Davis

Mary had been born to Charles and Elizabeth Pitt of Dudley, England, on August 4, 1907.  Dudley was located in an area known as the “Black Country”, due to the coal mining and iron industry that employed many of the men.

Charles Pitt had been a deaf-mute from the time he was a child, but was able to work as a laborer in the boiler yard of the iron works.

He and Elizabeth had a second daughter, Sarah Elizabeth, who only lived a few months.  Later, a third little girl was born, named Violet May.

In 1918, Elizabeth Pitt died, leaving Charles unable to care for their two daughters by himself.  He made the trip to Birmingham to place his little girls at Middlemore.

The admission record revealed their destitute condition and also hinted at their ethnic heritage by describing Charles as “mulatto”.  After living at the Home for two years, Mary was sent to Canada without her little sister.

Helping with housework was something Mary probably would have been accustomed to, but her poor eyesight prevented her from performing her chores satisfactorily.  At the annual inspection in 1924, it was noted that Mary was not receiving any wages and the recommendation was made to transfer her to the home of a doctor’s family in Nova Scotia, where she stayed several months until reaching her eighteenth birthday.

Jane (Davis) Ayres

Upon her return to Carleton County, she and Bert were married on September 16, 1925.  They lived in Waterville, Carleton County, NB for all their married life and had five children, with four sons still living.
Mary’s sister, Violet, had stayed at Middlemore until she was fourteen, and then was discharged to return to her hometown of Dudley, where she lived with her mother’s younger brother, Harry Farley.  It is uncertain whether her father, Charles, was still living by then. Violet had lost contact with Mary over the years of separation, so she wrote to Middlemore Home for help in tracking down her sister.  In 1928, Violet journeyed to Canada, where she got reacquainted with her sister and went on to build a life for herself with a husband and children.

Jane (Davis) Ayres kept in touch with her sons over the years, sending special gifts at Christmastime.  Her husband, William, had served in the First World War and died shortly afterward.  Jane passed away in 1936.

© Norma Davis Cook, 2017

Location; Canada

Pictures; from the collection of Norma Davis Cook

The Odeon reveals a few secrets ....... the ongoing story of its demolition

Now I have seen plenty of pictures of Central Ref over the years but never one framed by a demolition site.

But in the course of recording the end of the Odeon that is exactly what Andy has done.

There in the background is the Library and in front of it a pile of rubble, a JCB and a bit of the inside of the old cinema.

Because this is the moment when Derek the Demolition man has started on the facade of the cinema and in the process opened up the inside to anyone who cares to gaze up into the spaces which most haven’t seen for decades.

I spent many happy hours in there as did my kids.

It was here that I saw West Side Story, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and on one memorable afternoon when I should have been listening to a lecture on American Foreign Policy between the wars I watched Woodstock and wished that I had been there in that field with Country Joe and the Fish instead of a food factory by the river Thames.

But I suppose three days in a field on Max Yasgur’s farm in Orange County, New York listening to everyone from Janis Joplin, Santana, the Who and Jefferson Airplane along with Jimi Hendrix, Joe Cocker, and Canned Heat was never going to happen.

So sometime on a warm September day in 1971 I swapped Mr Wilson for Melanie, Country Joe and lots of happy young people in a field.

And while the Odeon was not that field we had the bonus of choc ices and Kia-ora drinks with the full knowledge that afterwards there was the promise of a few pints and a takeaway.

It has taken sometime for the demolition men to begin on the facade but soon even that will be gone allowing Derek the Developer to impose another new development and leave me to mutter something about abandoning hope and magic for a pile of steel and glass.

And yes I am well aware that at the end the Odeon was not a shinny example of a cinema at its best but it still had something that none of the modern multiplexes can emulate.

And that just leaves me with Andy's comment and question, "looking pretty grim. can you spot the gentlemen's facilities?"

Location; Manchester






Pictures; the Odeon, 2017, from the collection of Andy Robertson

A Chorlton bank and a pub ......... “no one expects the Spanish Inquisition”

It remains one of my favourite Monty Python throw away comments and it struck a chord as I came across these pictures taken by my old friend Tony Walker.

They are familiar enough places but both look very dated and are as remote from today as any one of those early 20th century postcards I often post.
But back in the the 70's I just took them for granted and then they had changed.

I used the bank from time to time and in the same way  fell across the doors of the Lloyds when we were eating at the little Italian restaurant on Wilbraham Road or for a thank you drink on election night.

Now my branch of the Midland was in town so I only used it only occasionally and of course in those days before internet banking your branch of a bank was still an important place.  The staff knew you and the bank manager was privy to your innermost financial secrets.

In the same way my local had been the Trevor where we were known, served a little quicker and on occasion when Stan felt like it allowed to stay just a tad longer after closing time.

All of which meant that the Lloyds was another place which was a different experience.  It still had the small rooms off the main staircase and a bar which from memory was quite small.

And in the way of things I didn’t expect either to change.  They were what they had always been since I arrived here in the winter of 1976.

Looking at the two pictures and comparing them with what they had looked like just sixty years earlier it is clear that they had been done no favours by the respective design teams and builders.

In 1975 the bank was just an anonymous slab from which to display its name, and the Lloyds despite the summer sun looks tired and ugly.  As Kemp's the Chemist the building on the corner of Barlow Moor and Wilbraham Roads had something while the Lloyds back in 1900 looked impressive.

Still both pictures are now history and just perhaps in another fifty years there will be those who see something about the two.  We shall have to see.

Pictures; from the collection of Tony Walker

A Tale of Two Countries ...... by Norma Davis Cook ..... part two a ship journey and a new life

On board the ship, the children were confronted with sights and sounds and smells that they had never experienced before.  Seasickness was common for the first few days, but most of the travelers recovered quickly.  The chaperones assigned older children to help look after the younger ones.  Entertainment was provided by the crew members and some of the other passengers. 

SS Carthaginian, date unknown

Nearing the shores of Canada, fog set in, causing a delay in their arrival.  On June 8, 1912, the Carthaginian docked in the port of Halifax, Nova Scotia.   An official from Middlemore, Mr. George Jackson, and his wife, accompanied the children destined for New Brunswick.  Others in the group were distributed throughout Nova Scotia.

Traveling by train to Carleton County, Albert and Edward were met at the station by the couples who had applied to take them into their homes.  Mr. Jackson’s instructions had been to place these boys near each other because they were twin brothers.  Albert (Bert) went to Howard Brook with the Clendennings; Edward (Ted) was placed in the neighboring community of Carlisle with the Sharpes.  The two families were related, so it was assumed that the boys would be allowed to maintain contact with each other.

The port of Halifax, date unknown

Unfortunately, there were many long, lonely days before they ever saw one another.
Soon after his arrival in Howard Brook, Bert was taken to the little country school and dropped off for the day. Nervously opening the door, he was met by the curious stares of ten little girls, the only other students in the class.   It had been some time since the lad had even seen a girl; at the Middlemore Home back in Birmingham, the boys and girls were kept in separate wings.  Bert immediately turned around, slammed the schoolroom door and ran all the way back to the Clendennings.  Of course, they insisted on taking him to school once again and making him stay there all day.

Ted, the elder of the twins, had been born with a weaker constitution than Bert, so he was not suited for the intense physical labor of farming.  By the time he was fifteen, Ted was eager to be done with farm life.  He had run away a few times, but was always found and forced to return.
In the summer of 1916, both boys were visited by their mother’s sister, Edith, with her husband, Stephen Long.  The twins were surprised to learn that their aunt and uncle had been living in Saint John, NB but were moving back to England with their three little boys.  Edith told her nephews that, if she had only known what was happening, she would have taken them into her own home.  How different their lives might have been!

CPR station, Woodstock, NB

When Edith arrived back in England, Jane was able to receive a first-hand account of the boys’ welfare, which prompted several letters to Middlemore, pleading for the twins to be returned to their family.  Jane had gotten married to William Ayres, the butler who worked at the estate where she was a cook and they were both eager to reunite the family.  Her request was denied, due to the fact that the boys still had a few years remaining to finish their contract with the Canadian farmers.

The sending agencies for British Child Migrants generally investigated each applicant who wished to receive a child.  Inspections of the placements were scheduled every year, usually in the summer, but the child was often not available to be questioned.

Because of Jane’s anxious pleas, the inspector made sure to speak directly with Ted on his next round of visits.  It was obvious to him that the young man would be better off somewhere else, so approval was given for a transfer.

After the harvest was finished that season, Ted went to stay with Robert and Georgia Clendenning—more relatives of the couple for whom Bert worked.  It wasn’t long before the inspector received a telegram from Ted with the encouraging message that his new placement was a great improvement.  His clothes had been mended, he had new gum rubbers for his feet, and it felt like home.

One of the unexpected results of being transferred to the Clendenning home was that Ted got acquainted with their granddaughter, Dorothy, who would eventually become his wife.
Over the next few years, Ted moved from one job to another, spending some time in the United States, as well as in Montreal, Quebec, where he trained to be a mechanic.

Ted and Dorothy were married on August 11, 1928.  They lived in Connecticut during the early part of their marriage, and then returned to New Brunswick to raise a family of ten children.

© Norma Davis Cook, 2017

Location; Canada

Pictures; courtesy of Norma Davis Cook

Searching for a bit of history up beside the Cat and Fiddle

Now I have to say Andy got a better day when he was up by the Cat and Fiddle than we did.

In our case we were passing through obeying the instructions of the sat nav which not for the first time took us on a long and roundabout route home.

Added to which what had been a hot sunny day turned into a grey dismal one with the clouds looking heavy and threatening.

No sooner had we left the area and the sun came out again, the temperature climbed and all was well.

What I didn’t know was that we had been on the boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire and that close by was not only a picturesque old bridge with a coaching history but evidence of an industrial past.

Andy told me that “on Monday we had ‘half a day-out’. 

Went to Cat & Fiddle on A537 Macclesfield to Buxton Road for a cuppa and the facilities but it was closed. 

Looking for a place to eat our emergency sarnies we turned down this track less than a mile away and it led to Derbyshire Bridge which was (still is?) boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire. 

There was also a decent toilet there and a free, deserted car park.

Turns out this track was the original Macclesfield to Buxton coach road (2nd image from bottom). 

The bridge looks quite interesting. 
Coal was mined not many yards from here. An innocent day out and you still accidentally stumble upon history!”

That said it appears that the Cat and Fiddle no longer sells beer.

It had opened in 1813 and closed in 2015, and there appear to be no plans to reopen it.

So it was perhaps fortuitous that I decided not to suggest we call in , after all it had been my choice to use the stat nav.

But given Andy’s pictures of the bridge and the surrounding countryside I think we should go back, receded perhaps by some solid research into the story of coal mining in the area and of course something of the coaching past.

We shall see.

Location on the original Buxton to Macclesfield road

Pictures; on the original Buxton to Macclesfield road, 2017 from the collection of Andy Simpson