Old Earby Revisited, By Wilfred Demain

[Stanley]

Old Earby Revisited,
By Wilfred Demain
Craven Herald 26 October 1979

THE nineteen twenties and thirties were a time of real hardship for many folk in Earby. Almost the entire population was employed in the cotton trade, which went through a traumatic time in those years. Yet somehow such was the character of the Yorkshire men and women, in spite of standing at two and three looms, instead of the usual four, they made the most of the simple pleasures of life, and there were a host of "characters" with whom it was a pleasure to have contact.
A former resident, Mr. Wilfred Demain, now living at 5, Hallam Road, Uttoxeter, Staffs. ST14 7NH, looks back at Earby and Earby folk.

My family lived in Longroyd Road on the edge of the town; one could see Steep Hill from there, or watch the cricket match for "nowt" at the end of the street. Longroyd Road itself had never been tarmacadamed. It was a disgrace to any local authority, with potholes, boulders and small lakes. It was finally the death of my father, who coming home from a football match at Burnley one rainy Saturday night, fell in the road and was asphyxiated in a pool of water. The next year the road was repaired.

Longroyd Farm was at the bottom of the road—a family, Pettys, used to live there. One night I was Awakened by the sound of clogs on the front street and the boos of men and women. At a meeting of milk producers, Mr. Petty had suggested raising the price of milk from twopence a pint, to twopence-ha'penny. The people were incensed—they threw a stone at the farmhouse window and knocked a pot from Mr. Petty's hand.

Later a family called Whiteoak lived there, with a family of seven or eight. When the father was giving his boys money at the weekend, he would say: “This is saving money, not spending money."

We had on our street a family who had 21 children. An interesting character was a man called Standing who enjoyed good music, and was he proud possessor of one of the old horn-type gramophones. On Sunday mornings we would open the back door and regale all and sundry with his records. His favourites were Edwin Firth, a well-known local cornet player, who had died in the war, playing "Somewhere a voice is calling," Amelita Galli Curcia, singing "Lo hear the gentle lark," and the "Hallelujah Chorus" and many others. Just a working man who ran four looms in a weaving shed, he gave many hours of pleasure In fact, one wondered whether to go to chapel, or stay home and listen to his records.

At the top of New Road was Green End House, where the local bigwigs of past years, the Bracewells, had lived. My father used to tell of Bobby Bracewell. On hearing that working men went to bed in the same shirt that they wore for work, he thought it "disgraceful." He did not realise the folk at that time could not afford pyjamas—they had no alternative.

At the top of New Road were a pair of houses, in one of which lived Squire Firth and his family. Squire was a well-known brass band conductor and all I remember was, at his funeral bands-men came from all over the North of England to pay their respects, and marched to the cemetery playing the Death March. From New Road top was Green End Avenue, on which row lived a man and wife who shall be nameless. They used paraffin as a means of lighting, which the husband bought locally. On hearing however that it was a half-penny a gallon cheaper at Salterforth, a mile and a half away, he walked there to buy his paraffin. The husband was also careful in other ways. It was said that on coming home from work he would get hot water from the side boiler, wash, and then say to his wife, "There are some good suds here Mrs." The wife then proceeded to wash in the same water. Good economics?

In Green End Road was what the locals called the "Gawmless." This was a gas lamp that some comedian had put right in the centre of the road: it had a post box on it. "Race thi tu't Gawmless" was a cry for many of us lads. Here was where Aspen Lane started—"Muck Street" to most people. I suppose some houses might have been cleaner than they were, but some of the poorest Earby folk lived there. A story told of one Rachael, not noted for her cleanliness, who was seen one Saturday morning scouring the front step. When asked why, she replied, "Thes more gus past, ner wot cums in." Incidentally I had two aunts who talked the broadest Yorkshire I have ever heard, things like, "Niver sin such a lad sin I cum downstairs," meaning no equal since they were born. Or, ' Nay, for suer i' lother" expressing surprise at something

At the bottom of Aspen Lane was Water Street. Bailey Bros, had a shop here: they sold everything. John Thomas, one of the brothers, used to go round the town with a horse and cart selling soap, brushes, cleaning materials, and paraffin, which was in a tank under the body of the cart. He -vent on the street shouting out something which no-one could decipher; the other brother Herbert served in the shop—they were both Quakers.

On Water Street Percy and Frank Windle had a cycle repair shop. Over the door of the workshop at the rear was a notice, "The man who lends the tools, is out". A chip shop stood at the entry to Ireland Square—now Shaw Square—a group of back-to-back houses. I was in this shop one night when the son of a well-known pork butcher came in and asked for a plate was given one, then took out a porkupie from his pocket, put it on the plate, handed it to the man behind the counter and said, "Will you put me some chips and peas on there please?"

At the end of Water Street and start of School Lane was the Empire Cinema, where in the twenties and thirties you paid ninepence to see a two-hour show, with films of George Arliss, Noah Beery, William S. Hart etc. and the "To be continued next week" where the heroine was tied to a railway line, with the train bearing down upon her. Then next week it went on onto another line, the hero having switched the points in time. Then when cowboys and indian films were shown, you stamped your feet and shouted when you saw the cowboys coming over the hill.

What a long way we have gone since those days, simple pleasures perhaps, yet who can say, apart from the near elimination of poverty, are we any happier than we were then ?

Moving on to Victoria Road, the Fairground, now the bus station, Frank Wilkinson's blacksmiths shop was in the tunnel going to Victoria Mill. Then the row of shops to New Road bottom, Varley's and Whites the butchers, Perry the newsagent, Ebor Smith the plumber, Starkies the bakers. New Road School once did a musical play, "Jan of Windmill Land," and the scholars did a parody of one of the songs. 'After supper I sleep and dream, of Shorrocks' black-puddings and Braggs' icecream, of Starkies' vanillas, and Haygarths' fruit pies.' Bob Shorrocks had a tripe, potatoe pie, and black-pudding shop. Mr. Bragg went round the streets in a pony and trap with ice cream. Haygarths were at Lane Ends opposite Charles Watson's joinery shop.

Miss Pollard had a millinery shop in Victoria Road next to the Co-op buildings and sold everything from a packet of pins to really stylish hats. Most Earby ladies bought headgear from Miss Pollard's. Later she married Mr. Parker, who had the ironmonger's shop on the opposite side of the road.

The Co-op buildings were at the bottom of New Road, the business ' being run by a committee of local people, all menfolk—women's lib had not arrived in Earby then. Eventually the business was taken over by the Colne Co-operative Society, who paid "divi "of two and sixpence in the pound. Many folks had holidays at Blackpool and Morecambe with the "divi." One of the shops was boot and shoe, and clog making; you could have new clogs made, or the old ones ironed. I remember taking a pair of clogs back because they hurt on the soles when I walked. Mr. Lord the "clogger" hollowed them out for me. There was a witty individual in the shop at the time, who said, "If that won't do, try washing your feet."

Around the corner in New Road were three shops owned by three real old time business-men. The first, Denby Whitaker, sold curtains, towels etc.; he was a stern character with a white beard. Next door was Sam Hartley, the greengrocer, a rotund man with a bright red countenance. Across the opening to Boot Street (Dockyard, to most folk) was Wilfred Preston the butcher. I remember standing by his shop when Victoria Mill was afire in the early twenties— you could feel the heat there. Dockyard must be over one hundred yards long.
We had been awakened that Saturday, night by the noise of the siren, and going down New Road, could see the flames coming out through the windows. The problem was in those days the fire engine was horse-drawn, the horses had to be caught in Banks Fields, and if my memory serves me right, the Colne motor engine was at the fire before the Earby one! It was a serious blow for many people who worked at the mill and many were without work for a long time.

In New Road was the Board School, which I attended from the age of three years to 14. The headmasters during those years were, Mr. Charlesworth, a good master and also a good local cricketer, Mr. Heap who came from down South, and who had been in the Navy, and must have brought some of the discipline with him; he believed in corporal punishment alright using a strap some two inches wide and eighteen inches long, which he wielded to some effect. He strapped you on the wrists, and the strap wrapped itself round them, causing a good deal of pain; whether your "crime" was great or small made no difference. However he did not stay in Earby very long before returning to his former pastures The man who succeeded him was of a different calibre, with, for those times a modern approach to children, and I believe was well liked by everyone. He was Lawrence Holt and came from Burnley, for whom he had played cricket in the Lancashire League. He was later to captain the Earby team. I only remember being punished by him once. I had done something wrong tracing a map. He caned me, and the thought of Mr. Holt caning was too much. I burst into tears though the cane did not hurt. He laughed at me in surprise, and sent me off to play football.
At that time the school had a staff with mixed ideas on teaching. Some had the cane almost tied to their wrist, others had a better approach. The staff were Percy Ellis, Tom Woolridge, Mr. Whitehead, Mrs. Wormwell; Millie Turner and Lillian Ashworth, who was the doyen of school teachers—some of us never seemed to hit the right note with her.

Further on New Road was Earby beck, which provided water for the cotton mills in the town. Here was New Road shed, which in those days had four or five different firms, including Thomas Henry Hartley's, Bracewell Hartley's, Green's and one or two others.

In 1933 came the most serious strike in the history of the cotton trade. National trade was bad, and the trend was to talk of reducing weavers' wages. The Lancashire Employers came up with the idea of a reduction of half-a-crown in the pound, on wages which hardly ever exceeded two pounds! Eventually we were called out on strike; we in Earby were out five weeks before the rest, having been influenced by one James Rushton. At the start of the strike there were some rowdy scenes, with weavers still wanting to go in to work. We were out for a total of 10 weeks. During that time we had one pound per week union pay. Finally the union had to settle for a reduction of one and threepence in the pound, and we went back to work. Many younger folk today do not wish to hear of the twenties and thirties. "Those days are gone," they say, yet today, have we not gone full circle, when folk strike at the drop of a hat?

Between New Road and the railway station were row after row of houses, all with small gardens, or none at all, and back yards. Many of these houses were rented, though I suppose one could have bought a house for £150 at that time. From the railway station you went on to Sough, and before the road to Kelbrook was improved this was a favourite walk for young men and women on a
Sunday evening. Many a lifelong partnership has been cemented along that road. It was given the name of "Rabbit Run."

The right-hand side of the road was the rather "posh" side. The story is told of an Earby businessman who had a house built along there, getting on the bus with his wife at the Empire Cinema, and saying to the conductor: "Two to our new house," so proud was he of his creation. I walked Sough Road hundreds of times as I worked my first nine years at the mill there, what was called "The top 'ole" was the warp dressing room of the Kelbrook Bridge Mfg. Co. and there were among the workers some real worthy characters. They were all men with good Yorkshire common sense, who could converse on everything from racing pigeons, to religion and the political scene. There were three brothers, Baileys, who were called Stephen o'Kebs, Bob o'Kebs and Dick o'Kebs. Their family had something to do with the naming of Keb bridge in Red Lion Street. Another was Hargreaves Turner, a very good and efficient worker. As a side-line he used to cut his fellow workers hair for three pence in the old coinage.

Harry Smith was the foreman in the Top 'Ole; he was a cousin of mine (brother to Fred Smith the cricketer). Harry was a fast talker, and had played football locally in his younger days. Playing at Kelbrook one Saturday his opponent kicked him, Harry ran to the referee saying "Sithee, sithee, where he's punched me." The ref awarded a free kick, then Harry said in an aside to a team mate "Ah got that mark last week at Barlick."

My sister worked in the Top 'Ole many years before. She told me that one Saturday, walking day for the Sunday schools in the town, it was pouring with rain in the morning, and most of the men started singing "Summer suns are glowing, over land and sea," all in good fun.
It was an experience on life's way to work in the Top 'Ole. These days there are so few real old timers, and I believe we are the poorer for the fact.

Transcribed from the “Craven Herald, 26 October 1979”
Jct
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[Stanley]

Bumped in case you haven't seen it before.

[Wendyf]

Thanks Stanley, I don't think I have read that one before.

[Stanley]

Thanks for responding Wendy....... Have a good day.

[Cathy]

Thanks Stanley, I enjoyed that
We have rellies born in Earby.

[Stanley]

Thanks Cathy.....

[Stanley]

Bumped again, still a good read.

[Gloria]

Thanks Stanley, not read that one before.

[Stanley]

That illustrates why these articles are worth repeating. Thanks Gloria....