North-East History Tour

Honest, it was THIS Big! (c.NZ713203)

2012-02-10T09:36:00.000Z

On 17^th February 2003, 40 year-old angler Val Fletcher was casting for little fishes from the beach at Skinningrove. She baited her line with squid and hoped for a nibble – perhaps from a mackerel or something equally as undramatic.

She got a bite all right, but it was no tiddler; for it was a 11½ft, 140lb oarfish (aka the King of Herrings) – and it took her a good 40 minutes to reel it in, aided by her partner, the appropriately named Robert Herrings. Though the size of the fish was on the large side, it was a minnow by oarfish standards: they can reach 50ft+. Anyway, the 5ft 4in, eight stone woman beached the monster, dragged it home and left it outside for a couple of days for the locals to gawp at. No one was able to identify the specimen for some time.

Oarfish are incredibly rare – especially live specimens. They are the oceans’ longest bony fish, and prefer warmer climes and deeper seas. One hadn’t been caught anywhere in the world since 1996 (off the US coast) – with previous UK finds including two at Whitby in 1759 & 1981 and one off Northumberland in 1794. Val is thought to have been the first person to have landed one with a rod and line.

When word finally got round, marine biologists were keen to examine the creature. By then, though, it had already been sliced up into steaks and shoved in Ms Fletcher’s deep freeze.

Tom Leonard’s Little Project (NZ712192)

2012-02-07T14:24:00.000Z

Not many folk have a museum named after them, but Thomas Leonard does. As a consequence – and despite its present-day reincarnation as the ‘Cleveland Ironstone Mining Museum’ – the man’s name is one of the best-known in the region.

Tom was born in 1922 at Charltons, a small mining village a few miles to the south-west of the famous museum which now sits betwixt Loftus and Skinningrove. He was schooled in Boosbeck, before beginning his career in the ironstone business at the offices of the South Skelton Mines. He served in the RAF during WWII, resuming his career after hostilities – whilst honing his writing skills at every opportunity along the way. He soon moved into journalism with the Cleveland Standard and then the Evening Gazette, penning many articles – including sports reports.

He was heavily involved with The Green Howards for many years, but for a long time nurtured his dream of establishing a museum to the memory of the dying ironstone industry of the area. Indeed, as the mines closed, Tom began collecting various bits and pieces in the hope that he could one day fulfil this ambition.

The Gun Room at Gisborough Hall housed his growing collection for many years; then, in the 1970s, the opportunity arose to move the equipment into the old Loftus Mineworks (which themselves had closed in 1958) with a view to opening the collection up to the public. Several years of preparatory work and fundraising saw the new museum open its doors in 1983 – the first (and, I think, only) institution of its kind in the country.

Sadly, though, Tom himself had passed away in 1981, and never saw his dream properly fulfilled. The museum was named in his honour – The Tom Leonard Mining Museum – though it has since been rebranded after a radical revamp during 1999-2000.

[Much of the above information was taken from the museum’s website at www.ironstonemuseum.co.uk , where you can catch a glimpse of the man himself]

Kilton Castle (NZ702176)

2012-02-03T13:16:00.000Z

One of the lesser-known and less cared for relics of Cleveland’s history is Kilton Castle, a crumbling spread of masonry clinging to the side of the dene overlooking Kilton Beck a little to the south-west of Loftus.

The stronghold, which is now largely enveloped by greenery, was built in the late 12^th century on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley below, being commissioned by the de Kilton family on land leased from the famous de Brus (Bruce) family – and probably preceded by a wooden affair. Immediately thereafter the land thereabouts became more intensely worked, and a sizeable village (Kilton) began developing nearby. Milling was the dominant industry, with records of such activity surviving from the 1320s.

By the end of the 14^th century, however, the castle and village had been all but abandoned – yes, the Black Death may have had a lot to do with it – and the fortress began its long decline into ruin. Despite occasional attempts at partial restoration, come the 16^th century it was long gone and as good as forgotten.

In the 18^th century another large village estate was built at Kilton, but this was soon dismantled and replaced in the 19^th century by a couple of large farmstead estates which remain in use today.

Despite being Grade I listed, the old castle receives little in the way of care and attention. The site occupies a fair old area – c.100m x 30m – but after a 1990s survey and preservation plan failed to stir anyone into action, nature began reclaiming the plot again at an alarming rate.

More information (and a link to some pictures) can be found here – though there’s not much to see.

Murder on the Hunt Cliff (c.NZ695217)

2012-01-31T14:10:00.000Z

The arc of coast betwixt Saltburn and Filey was once dotted with Roman signal stations, built in the second half of the 4^th century to warn of the threat of foreign invasion from the continent. Perhaps the best known of these was the site atop the heights of Hunt Cliff a little to the east of Saltburn.

Identified for what it was in 1862 and first excavated in 1911-12, it has since tumbled into the North Sea – leaving only a few artefacts to tell the story of its all-too-brief existence. Enough of it remained in 1911-12 to estimate its size at around 105ft x 105ft square, it being of rough sandstone construction with, likely, a wooden look-out tower at its centre. Coinage indicated that it was probably in use around 360-400 AD, before being abandoned by the Romans as they deserted our shores.

What is most remarkable about the site, however, was the discovery (in 1923) in the site’s well of fourteen human skeletons of varying age and size, many of which bore weapon marks. The individuals were certainly not soldiers, and this has led to the conclusion that the final occupants of the old signal station – most likely a group of Romanised British refugees who took over the site after the Romans left – were butchered in a rival attack of some sort.

There is every reason to suspect that it was the Anglo-Saxon invaders themselves who destroyed the site and slaughtered the occupants as they made their tentative in-roads into their new land at some point in the mid 400s AD.

Spirit of Ecstasy (c.NZ688198)

2012-01-26T16:07:00.001Z

[From Wikipedia Commons (Jed)]

The ‘Spirit of Ecstasy’, aka ‘Emily’, ‘Silver Lady’ or ‘Flying Lady’, is the official name of the hood ornament of the Rolls-Royce motor car. And it was designed by sculptor Charles Robinson Sykes, a native of Brotton.

Sykes (1875-1950) was a friend of the very famous Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, the great pioneer of the early automobile movement. When, in 1909, Lord Montagu was looking for a nice finishing personal touch to his Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, he asked our man to come up with a design. Sykes produced ‘The Whisper’: a figurine of a woman in fluttering robes with her fingers pressed against her lips – a reference to (and modelled on) Montagu’s secret lover at the time, Eleanor Velasco Thornton, whom his Lordship was precluded from marrying on account of her lowly social standing (an affair which continued long after his ‘society wedding’ to Lady Cecil Victoria Constance).

When Rolls Royce finally officially latched on to the idea of mascots a year or so later, they turned to the same man for a new design for their cars which conveyed “the spirit of the Rolls-Royce, namely, speed with silence, absence of vibration, the mysterious harnessing of great energy and a beautiful living organism of superb grace...”. The result was the appearance, in 1911, of ‘The Spirit of Ecstasy’ – suitably adorned with Sykes’ signature on the plinth. He was again commissioned by the firm in the 1930s, in fact, to design a lower version of the ‘The Spirit’ for their sports models.

Teddy’s Nook (NZ666216)

2012-01-24T14:00:00.000Z

Much of what follows is sketchy. Rumour based on hearsay, with a little bit of tittle-tattle thrown in for good measure. Good fun all-the-same, though.

Teddy’s Nook is the name of a private house which sits on what you might call the ‘main bank’ of Saltburn-by-the-Sea. Its construction dates back to the very earliest days of the town, when, in 1862, Henry Pease MP built and moved into the property – indeed Pease was pretty much responsible for founding the modern-day town as a whole. It was originally intended to build several of these mini-mansions, but only the one was ever completed – and was modestly named ‘The Cottage’.

One might think that a house with a former occupant of Pease’s standing was quite enough history for any private residence – but no. For in its relatively short existence, The Cottage has played host to many a celebrity – some, perhaps, imagined.

First up is the rumour that at one time the house was occupied by two eccentric old ladies who kept a lion for a pet, exercising it on the beach and having it buried in the garden. The famous Lillie Langtry supposedly stayed there, too, in the late 1870s, where she is said to have ‘entertained’ the future Edward VII. Thereafter, ‘The Cottage’ became known as ‘Teddy’s Nook’…

German spies are the next little anecdote. Apparently, enemy operatives sent out signals to ships at sea from the house during WWII.

Then there was the Kelly family, who were often visited by their cousin, the late Jimmy Savile. Does anyone remember him padding Saltburn’s streets during his morning runs?

As if that wasn’t enough, ‘Teddy’s Nook’ was also once the family home of Audrey Collins MBE, a formidable figure who served as the town’s mayor and chair of the South Tees Health Authority.

And that, I think, is that.

If anyone has any further information, rumours or, er, tittle-tattle, then do get in touch.

Frank Wild (NZ660189)

2012-01-20T15:44:00.000Z

Frank Wild, the great Antarctic explorer and colleague of the famous Ernest Shackleton, was born in Skelton-in-Cleveland on 10^th April 1873. He made five visits to the great southern continent, and was one of only two men to be awarded the Polar Medal with four bars.

Reputedly related to Captain James Cook through his mother, Frank was the eldest of eleven children born to Benjamin and Mary. He was born at 131 High Street, Skelton, and may have lived briefly, too, in Skelton Green, before heading off down south with his family in 1875 aged 2. He moved several times thereafter before embarking upon his extraordinary career at sea at 16.

Serving briefly under the doomed Captain Scott, he soon joined rival explorer Shackleton under whom he served most famously as second-in-command on the curtailed Endurance trip of 1914-16. Wild was the man left in charge of the men on Elephant Island when Shackleton made the epic journey to safety across sea and land, returning to rescue Wild and his men several months later.

In 1922, Wild took command of Shackleton’s expedition to the South Pole when the great man died on the day of arrival at South Georgia.

Afterwards, Wild moved to South Africa, where he saw out his days via two marriages and several largely doomed business ventures and jobs. He died in 1939 and was cremated. As recently as November 2011, his ashes were interred next to Shackleton’s grave on South Georgia after having been found in a cemetery building in Johannesburg by historian Angie Butler.

Crazy Castle (NZ652194)

2012-01-17T13:17:00.000Z

Crazy Castle was the common name for old Skelton Castle, the edifice which predated the current structure of this name a little to the north-west of the town of Skelton-in-Cleveland. The above etching seems to be the only surviving image of this mysterious place – itself a rather fanciful (and possibly inaccurate) attempt at recording its image for posterity. It probably acquired its nickname due to its ramshackle look as it fell into disrepair in its final years.

The land thereabouts was granted to the de Brus (Bruce) family in the years after the Norman Conquest, and a castle was soon built. Added to and altered many times over the years, and passing between various families, it seems to have spent much of 14^th-18^th centuries slowly disintegrating, until it was unceremoniously flattened in 1788.

At which point I shall let The History & Antiquities of Cleveland by John Walker Ord (1846) take over the story…

Skelton Castle — Of this old baronial fortress of De Brus and Fauconberg we know little even by tradition. No traces now remain of the frowning keeps and dungeons, the embattled towers, the huge portcullis, the aspiring pinnacles, the graceful terraces, nor even of that “fair sumptuous chapel, one of the jewels of the kingdom,” to which the Lord de Piercy led every Christmas-day the fair Lady de Brus. It has stood on a considerable eminence, surmounted by beautiful woods both above and below, and defended by impassable moats and impregnable outworks and embankments, abundant traces of which are extant to this day. The views to the west and north are diverse and commanding, and embrace, among other objects, the lovely retreats of Upleatham, with a brief glimpse of the Tees’ mouth and the sea. The drawing of the old castle is supplied by a clergyman of the West Riding, who writes:— “The enclosed sketch represents the castle at that period, and, it is supposed, for three centuries previous. The old castle, built about 1140, was a beautiful specimen of antiquity and of picturesque loveliness, being nearly surrounded by a deep glen, finely wooded. In 1788 the grandson of John Hall, who assumed the name of Wharton, commenced the work of destruction, and, at an enormous expense, contrived to flood the glen, demolish the terraces, pull down every remnant of Norman antiquity, including a magnificent tower; and has left behind him the most extraordinary specimen of folly and bad taste to be found in the whole country.”

Extract from the same letter:— “I have no doubt but that the round tower in the sketch, which had been converted into a pigeon-cote, and the large square tower introduced in the sketch, were there before the Conquest*; and I well remember viewing their destruction with tears in my eyes. The person he employed, and who urged him on to the work of destruction, was a Mr. Mickle, whom I afterwards met at Farnley Hall, and let him feel the lash of my tongue for the mischief he had done in my native vale.”

* unlikely.

The Smallest Church in England? (NZ637193)

2012-01-13T15:03:00.000Z

The village of Upleatham in the old North Riding of Yorkshire did an odd thing in the 17^th century: it moved for no apparent reason. Well, there must have been a reason, I suppose, but no one seems to remember what it was. And by moving a few yards up the hill to its current location, it left behind its old place of worship, which still sits, marooned almost in the middle of nowhere, a little to the south-east of the present-day clutch of houses. Despite this shift in the nucleus of the village, the old church of St.Andrew’s continued to serve it purpose for another 150 years.

The village’s new church, built in the 1830s, eventually came to serve the locals, leaving the old edifice literally out on a limb. As early as 1822 the decision had been made to dismantle the original church, but until the new one was finished it limped on – though they demolished as much as they could, leaving the tower and a small section of nave for essential services. When the services stopped, it was left standing for use as a cemetery chapel.

And I guess they just never got round to finishing the job – of demolition, that is. Which is nice, really, as there is evidence of a church having been on the site since at least the 9^th century. But can half a church count as ‘the smallest church in

England

’? I don’t see why not.

As it happens, the ‘new’ village was soon to suffer destruction, too, during 1890-1905 when subsidence caused by ironstone mining necessitated the demolition of more than half the buildings. What an odd history Upleatham has.

Image taken from the ‘Photos of Churches’ website. And more ramblings – and some detailed measurements of the competing ‘smallest churches’ – can be found here.

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Speed Beside the Seaside (c.NZ665219 to c.NZ620243)

2012-01-10T11:35:00.000Z

On 17^th June 1922, the great speedster, Malcolm Campbell, made his very first attempt on the land speed record here in the North-East of

England

. On the day in question he spent his time running up and down Saltburn and Marske Sands, at speeds at which no man on the planet had previously attained.

At the time, Campbell, despite his need for speed, didn’t actually own a car fit enough to get anywhere near the record, so he hit upon the idea of borrowing the vehicle which currently held the fastest mark and took it for a spin on the beach near Saltburn during the Yorkshire Automobile Club’s meeting on the day in question. The five-mile stretch of unbroken flat sand proved to be ideal, and after a number of runs our man posted 138.08mph – a good 4mph better than the existing record.

The powers-that-be refused to ratify the times, however, due to the fact that handheld stopwatches had been used instead of the officially-recognised electronic clocks. Campbell eventually bought the car in question – a Sunbeam – renamed it Blue Bird, and had another pop at the record in

Denmark

the following year. He beat it again, but once more failed to have it officially recognised.

Campbell eventually broke the land speed record officially for the first time in 1924 at Pendine Sands near Carmarthen Bay.

Battle of Marske Beach (c.NZ640229)

2012-01-06T10:28:00.000Z

The Pennyman family were big players in seventeenth century Cleveland. In 1625, they raised the fine pile that is Marske Hall and, in 1632, a certain Sir James Pennyman became Lord of the Manor.

As family tradition dictated, James was a staunch Royalist, so successfully chose the wrong side in the English Civil War. Keen to do his bit, though, at a time in the dispute when the outcome was in the balance, he created a little private army of his own made up of tenants from his estate. And, in 1643, this band of brothers was called into action in the little-known ‘Battle of Marske Beach’. It seems that Cromwell, keen to gain a foothold in this part of the world, tried to land a party of men on the seafront near to the village … and was successfully repelled by Sir James and his army.

When he eventually ‘surrendered’, he was punished for his delinquency and fined £1,200 in 1646. It is thought that it was this financial ‘hit’ which forced him to sell his estate to the Lowthers in 1650. Sir James made his comeback, though: he was elevated to the Baronetage after the Restoration and died – vindicated, presumably – in 1679.

The UK’s Oldest Person (c.NZ635225)

2012-01-03T09:54:00.000Z

Charlotte Marion Hughes, née Milburn, was the oldest documented person ever to have lived in the

. When she died on 17^th March 1993, she was 115 years 228 days old. And she lived all but the last couple of years of her long life in Marske-by-the-Sea.

Charlotte was born on 1^st August 1877 – the very same day upon which Alexander Graham Bell founded his first telephone company. She was a schoolteacher all her working life, after which she married her husband, Noel, at the age of 63 (who himself lived to the age of 103). She famously met Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in 1985, whom she rebuked for trying to cuddle up to her. Charlotte was a Labour supporter!

On her 110^th birthday she flew to New York aboard Concorde, and enjoyed a plush, all-expenses paid stay in

America

. She claimed the national longevity record in 1992, by which time she had moved to St.David’s Nursing Home in nearby Redcar. Though she resorted to a wheelchair in her latter years, she remained mentally sharp until the end.

She was the third person in world history to officially reach 115, though she has since slipped outside the top ten of all-time oldies worldwide and currently lies in 12^th place.

But she is still the British No.1.

The Yearby Hoard (NZ600210)

2011-12-30T09:33:00.000Z

In 1954, the sleepy hamlet of Yearby, a little to the south of Redcar, hit the headlines when the remains of two ceramic vessels were unearthed during ploughing. The pottery was nothing more than rather coarse seventeenth century tableware, but what was contained within caused a bit of a stir: a total of 1,197 silver coins dating from 1551-1697.

The find was quickly declared as ‘Treasure Trove’ and packed off to the British Museum – though I understand the hoard is now held by the Dorman Museum in Middlesbrough. The question is: what was it doing under a farmer’s field in Cleveland?

The general consensus seems to be that it was an illegally acquired ‘stash’ of some kind – possibly connected to the activities surrounding a former landmark thereabouts. For a large and ancient pigeon cote once adorned the hamlet*, and this would have been used to breed and house birds for the sport of shooting. The theory goes that at one such gathering of the local gentry, some local thief may have made off with a ‘gambling pot’, hid it … then lost it!

More amusing Yearby yarns can be perused here (upon part of which the above article was based).

* I understand this building has now been demolished – can anyone confirm this? Or does it still exist? Is the dovecote shown here a modern incarnation?

The UK’s Only ‘Straight Mile’ (NZ605242)

2011-12-27T14:21:00.001Z

Horseracing in Redcar goes back a good deal further than the relatively short life-span of its current racecourse. Races took place on Redcar Beach at least as early as the beginning of the 1700s – and continued to be held there until the 1870s, when new Jockey Club rules meant that ‘public entrance fees’ were to be introduced. This necessitated the construction of the current affair near the town centre, which was opened in 1872.

The new racecourse was built to comply strictly with the ‘new regulations’: fences for hurdles, a parade ring, a proper drainage system, etc. In 1875, a permanent Grandstand and Steward’s Stand were added, reportedly described as ‘second to none in the kingdom’. A second stand and stables were built in 1877, by which time we have early mention of the lauded ‘Straight Mile’ in a complimentary press report.

During WWI and WWII the young course was largely abused by the military (with good reason, you might say), and left in a sad state come 1946. Thanks largely to Major Leslie Petch (Manager from 1946 to 1971) and his dedicated team, Redcar’s premier sporting venue was thereafter revitalised with a series of improvement schemes and innovations. Astonishingly, it was the first course in the country to have CCTV, a timing clock and furlong posts. The current ‘new’ Grandstand was added in 1964.

The modern-day course is an elongated oval of just over 1mile 4furlongs, with tight bends. There is also a 3furlong ‘chute’ that joins the track where the southern-most bend meets the straight, providing a 1mile straight course, supposedly the only 'Straight Mile' in the UK that is both straight and level.

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Redcar Town Clock (NZ602252)

2011-12-23T15:58:00.000Z

Question: When does a Coronation Clock become a Memorial Clock? Answer: When it’s in Redcar! Let me explain…

During the future Edward VII’s long wait for the British throne, he became something of a regular at the bracing North-East seaside resorts that are Redcar and Coatham. So much so, in fact, that when he was due to finally succeed his mother as monarch in 1901, the local dignitaries thought it a splendid idea to raise a special Clock Tower in his honour – so they set about collecting donations.

Redcar and Coatham had recently amalgamated into a single authority, so it was thought appropriate to site the new structure on the old boundary between the two. Anyway, he can’t have been that popular, as the appeal fell largely on deaf ears. £300 was raised – some of it by selling ‘penny bricks’ – but it wasn’t considered enough to complete the project, so the venture was shelved.

Come 1910 and the death of the said monarch, they had another whip-round and this time the locals dug a little deeper. The erection was finally built and dedicated as a, erm, Memorial Clock Tower. Architect: William Duncan. Builder: John Dobson. Clock by Robert Richardson. Unveiled 29^th January 1913.

Better late than never.

The image is from a 1914 postcard. The clock was restored to working order in 2006.

Jane Gardam (c.NZ593251)

2011-12-20T12:29:00.000Z

Jane Gardam is one of the most famous natives of Coatham, having been born in the town on 11^th July 1928 – and still very much alive as I write. Gardam is known for her works of both children’s and adult fiction, and also pops up occasionally in The Spectator and The Telegraph as well as penning works for radio.

She was born as Jean Mary Pearson and educated at Saltburn High School for Girls and, subsequently, at the University of London where she read English. In 1951, she worked as a librarian, travelling between hospitals; then took up editorial posts at, firstly, Weldon Ladies Journal (1952) and Time and Tide (1952-4). After her marriage to David Gardam in 1954, she dedicated her time almost exclusively to raising her three children, enduring lengthy and often difficult absences by her husband who was working abroad. She didn’t take up writing in earnest until the late 1960s

From 1971, the published works began to appear – for both children and adults, as well as short stories. Her first adult novel was God on the Rocks in 1978, which enjoyed great critical acclaim. She won two Whitbread Awards (The Hollow Land and The Queen of the Tambourine, in 1981 and 1991, respectively), together with a host of other honours and nominations (including a Booker Prize shortlisting for God on the Rocks). She was appointed an OBE in 2009, and currently lives between her homes in the south-east and Yorkshire.

Fittingly, her one non-fiction work is the appropriately-named The Iron Coast (1994), recalling the days of her youth in and around Coatham.

In case you don’t know what she looks like, try here – though she’s a good deal older now.

Sir William Turner (NZ593216)

2011-12-16T12:38:00.000Z

Everyone who has the slightest interest in the history of Cleveland is well aware of the Sir William Turner Almshouses, Kirkleatham. But who exactly was this most generous of men?

William was born in Guisborough, a little to the south of Kirkleatham, in 1615, to an already well-to-do family. In the early 1620s, his father bought the Kirkleatham estate and began developing the site as the family home. But William was more than capable of making pots of money of his own, proving this following his move to London as a young man where he excelled in the fabrics wholesaling business.

After a long and successful career, during which time he amassed a huge fortune, he was knighted by King Charles II in recognition of his public works – and even found himself serving as Lord Mayor of London in the late 1660s, shortly after the infamous fire, during which time he worked closely with the likes of Christopher Wren in the rebuilding of the capital.

In the mid-1670s, Sir William, perhaps mindful that he had never married nor had children, surrendered most of his wealth to build the now famous almshouses in Kirkleatham – an institution founded in 1676 as the Sir William Turner Hospital. He determined that the hospital be established for the care of 40 people: ten old men, ten old women, ten boys and ten girls.

After his death in 1692 aged 77, control of the almshouses passed first to his nephew, then his great-nephew, Cholmley Turner. The great man’s will also made provision for the founding of a Free School in the village – a task completed by Cholmley in 1709, and which survives today as Kirkleatham Old Hall Museum.

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Dormanstown ‘New Town’ (NZ584238)

2011-12-13T12:53:00.000Z

‘New Towns’ are often thought of as a twentieth century phenomena, but they have been a constant feature of the evolving British landscape – especially since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. Teesside is strewn with such Victorian creations, though several did not seeing light of day until later.

Dormanstown wasn’t even conceived of until the rush of industrial activity brought on by World War I. Dorman Long, the company made famous by its later construction of both the Tyne and Sydney Harbour bridges, was in urgent need of extra workers at the time, and decided to built a new settlement on its own doorstep at the very height of international hostilities. The work began in 1917, and by 1920 was pretty much finished. The marshy site went from a single building (Westfield House) to 300+ dwellings, as architects Adshead, Ramsey and Abercrombie literally ‘went to town’ on their fancy ‘garden village’ plans.

Most of the houses were built with steel frames and clad with concrete, but were modestly elegant affairs in the Georgian style – though most (all?) have now been demolished. The town was added to further in the following decades, including the construction of what is believed to be

England

’s first purpose-built homes for senior citizens.

The town was, of course, named after Sir Arthur Dorman, the joint-founder of the Dorman Long company.

[The above image is taken from the ‘Historyof Dormanstown’ website – at which MUCH further information is available (click through to the extra pages, too)]

The Building of Grangetown, 1881-82 (NZ547210)

2011-12-09T13:46:00.001Z

The original ‘eight streets’ of the settlement of Grangetown were built during the early 1880s. Named Bessemer, Vaughan, Stapylton, Laing, Holden, Wood, Vickers and Cheetham (plus the main thoroughfare of Whitworth Road), the Victorian layout has now all but disappeared. Here is the almost complete transcription of a contemporary ‘interview’ of the time (full text at http://www.communigate.co.uk/ne/cardboardcity/index.phtml)

From The Daily Exchange, 1^st November 1882

Building a New Town

On Monday afternoon last our reporter had an interview with one of the firm who have contracted to build the new town of Grangetown, a place which for rapid growth is probably without equal. Perhaps it would be more interesting to give the result of the visit in American fashion. Having had a walk round the place we adjourned to what was termed the office, but which would have been better named had it been called a wholesale ironmongery store, the following dialogue took place:

When you started this town were there any buildings?

Yes; 23 cottages.

These were of the same kind as those you are now building?

Yes; these were our pattern to go by, but we improved on them.

How many acres of land did you purchase?

We purchased about 22 or 23 acres, which does not include the brickyard.

What was the immediate reason for building this place; was it for the men employed in the steel works of Messrs Bolckow, Vaughan, and Co.?

Yes

Where had the people come from?

They came from Middlesbrough, North Ormesby, Lackenby, Normanby, and South Bank district.

When you have completed your undertaking how many streets will there be?

Well, there are only eight streets, or 16 half streets, with a main street running through the centre.

Containing how many houses?

Seven hundred and sixty-eight houses, exclusive of the shops.

When you commenced you were aware that it would be one of the largest building undertakings in England. And you are going to accommodate how many?
Between 5,000 and 6,000 people.

You commenced the building about when?

On the 1^st of April, 1881. The first houses we built in Vaughan-street.

I did not observe any horses or carts?

No; a remarkable feature in this large concern is that we have not a single horse or cart; lines of rails being laid in the streets, everything is brought to the door by the steam engine.

Have you any gas?

No; nor any arrangement been made for the place to be supplied with gas.

(I have since learnt that the Normanby and Eston Gas Company, has received an order from the Eston Watch and Lighting Committee to supply Grangetown with gas, it being in their district)

Where do you get your water from?

That is supplied by the Stockton and Middlesbrough Water Company.

I notice you have raised the cottages above the street.

Yes we put a two-foot foundation in, which we fill up with ashes and then they raise the floors about another foot from the street.

What institutions have you?

We have none; neither a chapel nor a church, although the Primitives and Wesleyans are holding services in a cottage. There wants to be a Church, Primitive chapel, Wesleyan Chapel and a Roman Catholic Chapel.

At present you might call it a godless town then?

Yes, for we have no place of worship, reading room or school. The School Board however have a site at the south side for which plans have been prepared and are at present in London awaiting the approval of the Local Government Board.

You have no railway station?

No; but we anticipate having a station this side of the steelworks, to be called Grangetown.

There is no public house, I think?

No, but there will be one shortly.

Yet men, they can get drink, and are often seen reeling about the place.

A great amount of shebeening takes place.

How do they spend their Sunday?

By drinking and lounging about. The children are allowed to do as they would any other day. Of course there are exceptions.

How many policemen have you?

We have three; two have been here about three months, and one has just come; but this is not sufficient.

About how many bricks have you made here yourselves since you came?

Five millions at our brickyard in addition to those we have had to buy. We have got our ironmongery wholesale, the woodwork we have got from the lessees of the Cargo Fleet Timber Yard.

Of what nationality are the inhabitants?

They are principally Irish, but there are a great number of English and Welsh. Some of the inhabitants have gardens in which they devote their leisure time, others keep pigs, while one man, more given to saving than his fellow-workmen, has rented a small piece of land, and bought a couple of cows. I might say that in the original plan there is a church shown, but the land has not yet been allotted.

The access to the place is not good?

No; but they are making some plans for a sub-way, and another for a bridge. I do not know which will be adopted, but one of them is sure to be adopted.

What kind of drainage have you?

The place is well drained, the main drain emptying into the Tees. The drainage cost £2,000. We have a Post-office and a money-order office but no telegraphic communication.

This was the end of the conversation. If any of our readers would like to know anything further, we would advise them to visit this wonderful place for themselves.

As well as the complete ‘interview’ at www.communigate.co.uk/ne/cardboardcity/index.phtml, there is much else to be found concerning the town via the link.

William Short VC (NZ555180 & NZ547210)

2011-12-06T11:36:00.001Z

William Henry Short was born in Eston, Middlesbrough, on 4^th February 1885, to his (at the time unmarried) parents, James Short and Annie Stephenson. He spent his early days at 11 William Street with his eight siblings. In 1900, the family moved to nearby 35 Vaughan Street, Grangetown, and Will became a fairly well-known local footballer, with spells at Grangetown Albion, Saltburn and Lazenby United.

From the age of 16 until the start of the First World War he worked as a craneman at Bolckow, Vaughan & Co. Steelworks in Eston. At the outbreak of hostilities, he joined the Green Howards and travelled to

France

in August 1915.

During the long, drawn-out affair that was the Battle of the Somme (July-Nov 1916), Short saw action at an early stage around Contalmaison on 5^th and 10^th July. Then on 6^th August, at Munster Alley near Pozieres, he conducted himself with such bravery that he was to be posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross. As the London Gazette officially declared:

For most conspicuous bravery. He was foremost in the attack, bombing the enemy with great gallantry, when he was severely wounded in the foot. He was urged to go back, but refused and continued to throw bombs. Later his leg was shattered by a shell, and he was unable to stand, so he lay in the trench adjusting detonators and straightening the pins of bombs for his comrades. He died before he could be carried out of the trench. For the last eleven months he had always volunteered for dangerous enterprises, and has always set a magnificent example of bravery and devotion to duty.

It seems that he lay in the trench for some time, dying the next day (7^th) before he could be moved. He was buried at Contalmaison Chateaux Cemetery, though his name is recorded on memorials in both Eston and Grangetown. The VC itself can be seen in the Green Howards Museum in Richmond, Yorkshire.

Eston’s ‘Bold Venture’ (c.NZ562179)

2011-12-02T13:37:00.001Z

In the spring of 1850, the fledgeling Cleveland ironmaking industry was floundering. Established as recently as 1840 by those great speculators Henry Bolckow and John Vaughan, the first iron foundry at Middlesbrough was not shaping up as planned. Despite the construction, in 1846, of smelting works to aid the operation at Witton Park, 20 miles to the west, the business was struggling to keep its head above water. Ore quality and quantity, as well as transportation costs, were becoming unmanageable.

In 1847, the ‘Cleveland Main Seam’ of iron ore had been discovered at Skinningrove, and Bolckow and Vaughan soon began shipping it in – but the solution was not ideal. Then, sensationally, in 1850, Vaughan and his mining engineer, John Marley, fell upon new deposits of iron ore in the Eston Hills. It was the defining moment in the history of Cleveland, and the point at which Middlesbrough’s looming financial disaster was averted.

In August 1850 – within weeks of the discovery – the first trial quarry was dug in the heights above Eston, and named ‘Bold Venture’ by it’s chief engineers. By the end of the year, 4,000 tons of ore had been extracted, smelted at Witton Park, and the iron finished and rolled out at the Middlesbrough foundry – all making full use of the new railway network.

On 6^th January 1851, the Eston Mine and its railway branch line were formally opened amid great pomp and ceremony – and production began to boom. By the mid-1850s, Eston had its own blast furnaces…

And the rest, as they say, is, er, history.

Cargo Fleet (NZ517207)

2011-11-29T11:29:00.001Z

The Teesside conurbation is famous for its extraordinary Victorian growth, but that is not to say there was nothing in the vicinity before the Industrial Revolution. One of many modest settlements along the course of the old river in the days before the masses arrived was Cargo Fleet, a name which can still be found amidst Middlesbrough’s surburbia.

It sat (and indeed still does) on the outside bend of the River Tees little more than a mile to the east of the present-day Middlesbrough Railway Station. Historical sources place its habitable history back at least as far at medieval times, when it was a little fishing village known as Kaldecotes (a name which is Anglo-Saxon for ‘the cold-shelter cottages’) located where the Marton and Ormesby Becks joined the Tees.

In time, its name became corrupted to ‘Cawker’, ‘Caudgatefleet’, and then ‘Cargo Fleet’ – or so the story goes. Though it seems more likely that the ‘Cargo’ element came from settlement’s role as an off-loading point for large vessels during the 18^th and 19^th centuries, when cargo would be transferred to smaller boats for onward journey. Additionally, two-thirds of Middlesbrough’s exports at one time passed through its busy little harbour. Old maps show that it was at this time also know as Cleveland Port – indeed both names are shown on the 1856 OS map. ‘Fleet’, in case you’re wondering, comes from the Anglo-Saxon fleot, meaning ‘stream’.

As industry saturated the area, Cargo Fleet lost its sense of isolation and identity. As the years passed it came to be known, unofficially, as ‘Claggy Foot’, presumably on account of its muddy expanses.

That last bit is just a guess.

The Genealogist - UK census, BMDs and more online

Well, Well, Well (NZ515159)

2011-11-25T13:31:00.001Z

In the churchyard of Marton St.Cuthbert’s, near Middlesbrough, sits a headstone of which has carved upon it the words “Remember Death” and three coffins each with the initials of the three robbers who lie there.

The headstone was erected in memory of Robert Armstrong (28), John Ingledew (39) and Joseph Fenison (28) who lost their lives on 11^th October 1812. The three men, it is said, had stolen some meat from the butcher’s shop but, as they were taking it away, they were disturbed, so threw it down the well in the yard at the rear of the shop. They later returned to reclaim their quarry, and one of the men went down the well. When he did not return the second went down to see what had happened to him. When he did not return the third man went down – all three were suffocated by the ‘carbonic acid gas’ at the bottom of the well.

The inscription on the headstone finishes with the warning that anyone contemplating entering wells should first see whether a candle burns and, if it does all the way to the bottom, they can go down – but if the candle goes out they should stay out.

The burial entry dated 13^th October 1812 records that Robert Armstrong, Joiner; Jo.Ingledew, blacksmith; and Joseph Fenison, labourer, were suffocated in a dry well behind the Rudds Arms by foul air. It is recorded as an accident.

[Readers may be interested to know that this story is one of many 'oddities' which feature in my new publication, Dead End Hobby: Oddments from the World of Family History - see here]

Acklam Hall (NZ487170)

2011-11-22T11:43:00.001Z

Acklam Hall, famously the only Grade I-listed building in Middlesbrough, dates from around 1680, having been built by Sir William Hustler on land owned by the family since the 1630s.

Acklam has a distinguished history, the Domesday Book recording the existence of a King’s manor there in 1086. The de Boynton family seem to have had early rights of ownership thereabouts – indeed it was they who sold the land upon which the hall would be built to the Hustlers on the eve of the Civil War. Construction is believed to have been completed by 1683 – though a third level was added in 1845. It was – and still is – blessed with highly ornamental interiors.

The Hustlers retained ownership from 1637 until 1928 when it was sold to Middlesbrough Corporation for £11,500. In 1935 it was reincarnated as Acklam Hall School, and afterwards lost most of its ornamental gardens as the institution expanded into Acklam Hall Grammar School in the 1950s – becoming Acklam High School in 1968. Various other name changes followed, until it morphed into Middlesbrough College in 1995.

With upkeep costs soaring, the hall’s future is in some doubt. As of 2011, Middlesbrough Council/College seem set to sell the structure to developers for multi-purpose usage.

[the above picture dates from c.1913]

Willie Hornung (NZ504188)

2011-11-18T14:46:00.001Z

Ernest William Hornung was born at what is now 404 Marton Road, Middlesbrough, on 7th June 1866 – a spot more famously known as Erdely Villa, which was for many years the Convent of the Holy Rood. Hornung is best known as the creator of the Raffles series of novels about the gentleman thief of Victorian London.

Hornung was the youngest of eight children born to wealthy Hungarian coal and timber merchant, John Peter Hornung (‘Erdely’ is the Hungarian name for Transylvania). Assured of a good education, he soon found himself packed off to Uppingham School in Rutland. In 1883, he was despatched to Australia on account of his asthma, where he worked as a tutor for a little over two years – a period of his life which had a major impact on his future writings.

Returning to England in 1886, he worked as a journalist for many years, and married Constance Aimée Monica Doyle, the sister of his friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in 1893. Raffles first appeared in Cassell’s Magazine in 1898, and during the next ten years or so the character featured in 26 short stories and novels – and a play – bringing him considerable fame. Astonishingly, as early as 1905 the character featured in a 15-minute film.

His only child, Arthur Oscar, died in action during the First World War, and he himself visited the trenches – an experience which influenced of his later work. He died in France in 1921, aged 54.

Hornung was a keen amateur cricketer, and was once described as “a man of large and generous nature, a delightful companion and conversationalist”. The model for Raffles was supposedly one George Ives, a Cambridge-educated criminologist and talented cricketer (and gay rights campaigner).

At the risk of infringing copyright, I shall merely point you to a picture of the man himself, which may be glimpsed here. My thanks to Chris Twigg of the excellent 'Hidden Teesside' website for permission to use the image of Hornung's birthplace.