EARBY THROUGH 60 YEARS (2)

[Stanley]

EARBY THROUGH 60 YEARS (2)

Pot Sales, German Bands and Sanger’s Circus How Children Were Entertained in the 'Eighties' By John Hartley

In my earlier years I seemed to have had rather more than the average lad’s experience of accidental escapades. On one of our family’s occasional pilgrimages to Gargrave my mother rode on the front seat of a "shandry" and on the return journey, somewhere near Bank Newton, one of the shafts of the conveyance broke and she, with her second son who was only a few months old, were pitched into the hedge. Happily there were no serious consequences. My first recollection is associated with an accidental occurrence. While my mother was making the beds I played on the bedroom floor with some toys and moving too near to the edge of the staircase which was only protected by a handrail, I rolled over and down the stone steps, bumping my head all the way down. A singular feature of the early days of my brother and myself was that we started walking together, although he was eighteen months older. Charlie was weak in the back as a child and my father rolled him on the hearthrug for scores of hours to strengthen his body. A carriage was provided for us in which we sat "in state" side by side whenever we were taken out visiting or had fresh air exercise. My father was very fond of playing with young children in the early evening hours after tea and as he danced them about he would sing something like this:- "Tee I Tom Tittle, Tee I Tom Tittle, Tee I Tom Tittle, Tom Tay Re Am," or "The Jolly Miller" and "When Johnnie Comes Marching Home Again". Other experiences of those days which stand out indelibly clear are associated with our Sunday nights, when, too young to go to chapel, we sat around our mother’s knee on the hearthrug. Sometimes she would sing to us some of her favourite Wesley hymns set to old tunes like "Irish", "Devises", "Justification and " Elevation". Then after we had said our prayers we retired to rest with the mother’s kiss of blessing bestowed upon us. I had a very painful experience when in the first standard at school. As a result of a playful push from one of my school mates after we had finished our lessons, I slipped back against the wall with my hands behind the hot pressure pipes and my feet up against the desk as fast as if I were in a vice. There was pandemonium for a minute or two until I was released by my teacher, Mr Albert Brown, and he carried me into the schoolmaster’s house. To this day I retain a scar of two inches in length at the back of each hand "to witness if I lie" An Alarming Episode My worst adventure was associated with the cricket field. I was very fond of running on to the crease after one side had completed their innings and pushing behind the heavy stone roller. On this particular occasion I went clean over, toppling a somersault on the way. One man alone saw me go over, "Tosh" Jackson - the rest were looking the other way. He called out in alarm and after the roller was stopped and backed I was lifted up. What a sensational relief! I was scalped a bit, my cranium was crushed in but not broken and the depression still abides. In imagination I can still hear "Tosh" saying to me in his customary drawling fashion, "By gow Johnnie but tha’d nearly bin done for". "Tosh" (Edmondson Jackson) is still with us in lives in "Cat Gate" (Riley Street). About 1880 the last portion of the village green was absorbed when Mr.James Dodgson built five dwelling houses to complete White Lion Street. Thus the village lads were left without any ground to play their games upon. A substitute site often made use of was the road where there was a junction between the top of Riley Street and the top of Aspen Lane with Green End Road. But there were two meadows on one side, one called "Tipsy" belonging to the White Lion Farm and the other "Tranmire", belonging to Green End Farm. If the cricket balls went over into the meadows there was a constant risk of trouble. On the one hand there was Bill Edmundson, the keeper of the White Lion, who used to make a raid on the lads and carry off all their tackle he could lay his hands on. They were never seen again and in consequence he earned the nickname of "Owd Grab All". On the other hand, the master of Green End, who was unceremoniously referred to as, "Owd Kit", used to apply his stick pretty freely to the hinder part of lad’s anatomy, sometimes with dire consequences. Another small plot of "laking land" at the bottom of Earby, near Ireland Bridge, was built upon in 1886 for Harrison’s Stores and adjoining shops. For the observance of "Gunpowder Plot" there were three customary sites, Bob Nutters garden off Aspen Lane, Ireland Square and "T’top o’t Town". Earby lads of that time will recollect the accident to William Turner (Willie o’Tinker’s) when he had one of his eyes blown out with a squib. Pot Sales A frequent source of interest to young lads, as well as the older people, were the visits of pot vendors, who used to take their stands on vacant land at the end of the mill where is now the entrance to the Conservative Club. The naphtha lamps with their glowing flares lighted up the faces of the central figure as well as the crowd and as he made his jokes to keep his patrons in good humour it was as good as a pantomime to us. These men did good business too as Earby people were generally accounted to be thrifty, and many an "old stocking" was raided to secure the "prize" of a full tea service set which was carried home in triumph in a clothes basket. There was an indirect beneficial result to the lads who were requisitioned to go round the village shouting "Pot Sale to-night", and they were rewarded with plates and soup dishes which furnished their tables for many years. This spare land was a good "stand" for open air meetings and one incident is well remembered of a visit of a very popular temperance evangelist, Mr. W.H Harrison, of Manchester, who was always accompanied by a small American organ. It was a short meeting during the dinner hour and before the people returned to their work in the adjoining mill he sang "There’s a good time coming boys" and when he had finished his song one of the spinners called out as a parting shot - "Can you tell us when, mister?" Loud and long was the laughter as the people filed away to resume their toil. German Bands German bands were frequent visitors to our village, and the place being noted for its musical community, it was a happy treasure ground for them. They were usually about eight in number and after they had played a couple of pieces two of them were set free to make the collection from the neighbouring houses, which they did with commendable diligence. They apparently regarded their task very seriously and were not so sociable, but soon moved to another quarter to continue their work for the Fatherland. Italian organ-grinders were more popular, especially if they had a monkey perched upon the organ and the men were always of a smiling, dancing, carefree disposition. A very attractive visitor was the man who could play several instruments at once, with his head, his hands, his feet in addition to his mouth, making much a-do with his bells clappers and drum. Of these touring musicians, the palm must be given to a man and his wife whom we Green Enders styled "Sir Robert and Lady Mary". He played the violin with astonishing skill and she serenaded the people with homely, sentimental songs in a most captivating manner. Down through the flight of years her voice rings out sweet and clear :- "O, the sunny, the sunny hours of childhood, How soon, how soon they pass away; Like the flowers, the flowers in the wildwood, That once bloomed fresh and gay." The scene, on a late summer evening, with scores of people listening in spell bound admiration as they stood upon their doorsteps or clustered round the singers was a delightful experience which would never be forgotten. The couple, who had no doubt, seen better days, and had a weakness for the convivial cup. on the completion of their promenade through the village entertained the company at the White Lion Inn for the rest of the evening. Trawden Band Concerts The brass band contests at Trawden, and later at Colne, were a great attraction for Earby men and for lads who used to make the journey on foot. The Trawden contest was held on Good Friday, but this was supplanted by the Colne people, who arranged one for the Saturday following, much to the annoyance of the Trawden people. What a place Colne was on the occasion of these Saturday encounters! The long main street, from the railway station to the top of Skipton Road, was crammed with people and to make "the confusion worse confounded" the weekend market was held in the narrowest part of the thoroughfare. Then as band after band played up to their respective Inns , where they were billeted for the day, the scene was tumultuous in the extreme. We Earby lads made sure of getting into the Coffee Tavern at the top of Windy Bank in good time: and what a rare "do" we had! Of the luxury of a meat pie with gravy, as big as a saucer, and custard about the same size and a large pot of tea - all for 6d. Then to the contest field in the Swan Croft, when we were inclined. One year, I think it was 1886, there was Sanger’s Circus at Nelson and a parade through the streets; so we trudged on to Nelson to see the “fun of the fair.” The animals were divided into sections and somehow we found ourselves trotting behind the elephants, and we kept on, although we were nearly "dead beat" when we reached the field where the circus was stationed. We didn’t see so much of the procession, but we had seen the elephants. We managed to scrape enough money amongst us for the railway journey back to Colne and we were very tired and hungry lads when we reached Green End that night. A Mill Fire The greatest calamity which befell our village in my early days was the mill fire. It was the first Saturday in January (5th day) in the year 1884. People were just lolling about after they had finished their dinner when all at once there was a scurrying and scuttering in every street and one cry rent the air as it was passed from one to another, "T’mill’s a-fire!". In a few minutes hundreds of villagers had gathered in the road at the end and round the side of the mill and looked on the work of destruction in a helpless dismay. Every ladder about the place was up the mill chimney and although the mill fire brigade and mechanics got to work, their task was hopeless. The only thing that could be done was to save the engine house and the short end and this was accomplished. During the afternoon the Skipton fire brigade arrived as well as the manual engine from Dewhurst’s Mill and they all worked desperately hard with the Earby men to save what was possible. Mills in those days were not fire-proof and the oily machinery and floors provided inflammable material ready to hand for a big fire. To an industrial village community, a disaster of that nature is one of the first magnitude, an no-one who lived through that week-end in Earby will ever forget the dreadful experience. There was the heavy financial loss to the Bracewell family, which was estimated at £25,000, and only partially covered by insurance. The loss of livelihood to scores of workers could not be tabulated and some must have suffered severe privation. There were some who obtained work in the mills in the neighbouring towns and villages, while some spinners who went to Bracewell’s Mill at Oak Mount, Burnley, suffered a worse fate than befell them in Earby, because they were burnt out when the place was running, and had to flee for their lives, leaving some of their clothes in the doomed mill. The Rev Samuel Chadwick, who became president of the Wesleyan Conference, was a four loom weaver at Oak Mount Mill when it was in possession of the Bracewell’s. It had formerly belonged to the Hopwood family, into which both Mr.Christopher and Mr. Henry Bracewell married. Fortunately for Earby people, the larger part of Victoria Mill which had been destroyed was rebuilt, and the machinery was restarted early in 1885. Transcribed by Bob Abel, used with his permission. These articles also appear on the Earby & District Local History Society web site www.earbylocalhistorysociety.co.uk 2237 words 28 April 2005 jt