Search results: "ezra"

Unhappy family differences, a drowning, death by chamber pot, ‘Irish Lawlessness at Widdop’ – and this is just Part One.

It all began with one man and his dog. The man, Edward, was a shepherd. I didn’t catch the name of his sheepdog but she was having a jolly old time swimming  around in an old bath tub in the sheep field as I chatted to her master. I was on Edge Lane, between Heptonstall and Colden, and had just arrived at Spink House where my ancestor Giles Sunderland was living in 1891. As I paused to take photos of the building Edward came into view. I thought perhaps he lived there, but no. He was just walking along the tack to his sheep field. We chatted for a while and as we parted he said, “If you are interested in history make sure you find out about Raistrick Greave.”

Hmm. . . A couple of days later, quite by chance I found a video of someone’s hike to the ruins of Raistrick Greave, a farmhouse in a very isolated spot way up on Heptonstall Moor above Widdop.  Its name reminded me of Greave farm where Gibson Butterworth was living in 1901 so I decided to do a bit more digging online. With 20 or more ‘hints’ on the Ancestry website, Gibson looked like a ‘person of interest.’

Until a couple of days ago Gibson Butterworth was just another name on my Nutton family tree, one of over 2000 names. I knew he and his sister Grace had been born at Weasel Hall, a building high on the hillside that dominates the view from my desk  where I write this.

Weasel hall from my window

 A few months ago I’d been given the handwritten account of the life of his father Ezra Butterworth, along with some wonderful photos from James Moss, someone on Ancestry.com whose family had also married into the Butterworths.

GIBSON BUTTERWORTH

The son of Ezra Butterworth and Mary, (nee Gibson) he was assigned his mother’s maiden name as his  forename, a very common occurrence in these parts. Indeed my dad’s middle name was Dean, in memory of a family surname.  Gibson was born in 1863, the same year that Cheetham House sewing factory in Hebden Bridge was built. I’d lived there for the first 18 months after my return to England, in an upper room where huge iron wheels from the pulleys that powered the machines still graced my ceiling.

According to the journal that Grace kept “Gibson was a great disappointment to Ezra. He was highly intelligent but perhaps in- herited too much of his mother’s temperament. He was educated first at Heptonstall Grammar school and later went as a boarder to a school at East Keswick. Though he wanted to be an engineer he never seemed to settle down. Ezra started him in the clothing business in Hebden Bridge but after two years he threw it over in disgust and became a wanderer. After forty years he retuned from New Zealand and settled in a cottage in Hebden Bridge. Even in his old age he was a very gifted speaker and would draw people to his cottage just to listen to him.He and Grace seemed to have been very close to one another but while Grace accepted her mother’s domination Gibson would not. So there grew a fierce hatred between Mother and Son which lasted as long as they lived.Maybe that was the cause of his differences with his father.

My painting of Grace from a photograph

Gibson was educated in Heptonstall grammar school, that fascinating building which first opened its doors in 1642, the year before that the town was directly involved in the Civil War, when the battle of Heptonstall took place in the remote hilltop community. The parliamentarians of Heptonstall did battle with the Royalists of Halifax. In 1871 Gibson was a young 8 year old,  living on Crown street (my current address) with his family. His dad, Ezra was a railway contractor held in quite esteem according to the written account of his life. “He was responsible for the laying and upkeep of many of the lines of the Lancs and Yorks Railway. He was a perfectionist and the train drivers always knew when they were on his lines, they were so smooth.” So recounted his daughter, Grace. I’ve been trying for 2 years to work out which  buildings various branches of my family lived on Crown Street, but to no avail. By 1881 Gibson’s family appear to have moved up in the world judging by the fact that they are now living at Oak Villa,a house built especially for the Butterworths and Ezra is a farmer with 9 acres. See my blog about Ezra. http://blog.hmcreativelady.com/?s=ezra

Oak Villa, the home that Ezra had built

In 1890 his Ezra his wife, Mary,  and daughter Grace had moved to Hippins farm, which Ezra leased from Lord Savile’s estate. It was a 75 acre farm set high on the hill top above Todmorden . In the 1891 census Gibson is still at Oak Villa where he is living with his Uncle,  Thomas Butterworth, another plate layer for the railway and his wife Mary Ann. This in itself is perhaps insignificant but new paper reports fill in the back story of  a major rift in the family. Indeed, the newspaper article is entitled: Unhappy Family Differences – painful disclosures. Ezra had deleted Gibson from his will and so Gibson was claiming financial compensation by taking his mother and sister’s husband, Elias Barker, to court to claim what he believed was owing to him. The court decided on a nominal sum.

I’m so sorry I missed this, but I’d never heard of Hippins or my connection with its residents at that time.

Sharing Hippins farm  in 1891 was the Wolfenden family, John William Wolfenden, his wife Jane, and three young children, one of whom was named Isabella, aged 3, so born in 1888. There just HAD to be a connection, since Gibson had married an Isabella Wolfenden, born in 1857. It took me into the early hours of the next day before I’d cracked it. John William was Isabella’s brother. And just to complicate matters still further John William Wolfenden’s wife’s Jane was a Butterworth,  Jane  Butterworth, born in 1856! I guess the families living in the remote hilltop farms would gather together and mingle and perhaps meet their future spouses at stock sales and other farm related activities.

Two years after Ezra died 1898, a tragic death, caused by an injury sustained by falling onto his chamber pot in a drunken stupor,   Gibson married Isabella Wolfenden, a second marriage for the widowed bride. The marriage took place at Slack Chapel. The present building was constructed in 1879, replacing the earlier building of 1808 where the opening ceremony was attended by seven hundred people. More than a thousand were at the Dedication service on the following Sunday. 

Slack Baptist chapel

It’s no longer a chapel but when I’d visited it in the August 2017 it appeared that some building or renovation work was in progress. I’d even chatted to a man that came out of the building to find out what I was doing. But three years later the place looks in the same unfinished condition. In July 2015 a picnic was planned on Popples Common to discuss the building’s future. Plans for it to become a halfway house for those recovering from drug abuse were dropped after objections from local residents. I chatted to the current owner, Holly, as she tended the gravestones that make up her front garden. “You can’t live here if you have a nervous disposition” she quipped. So now let’s find out more about Gibson’s wife.

Current owner of the chapel tending the inhabitants of her rather unusual garden

ISABELLA WOLFENDEN

 Isabella was from Paythorne, a picturesque village on the River Ribble, in the Forest of Bowland, and her dad, John, was an agricultural labourer. By the time Isabella was 10 years old the family had moved to Good Greave, a farm on Heptonstall Moor, a farm that has been in the Shackleton family for a long time. I mean, a really long time! In the 1604 survey out of 26 farmsteads in Wadsworth 14 were owned by Shackletons and the document specifically mentions 2 at Good Greave. There was a Richard ‘elder’ and Richard ‘younger’ at Good Greave in the Court Roll of 1603 and in documents of 1605 but not on the Savile tenants lists as ‘they’ had bought their farm in 1600.

Lowe Good Greave is directly below Upper Good Greave on this map that Ollie Robertshaw prepared for me. He also has ancestors who lived in Lily Hall and gave a presentation to the Heptonstall history society.

A more remote spot on the moorland is hard to find. Indeed, it took me a while to be able to pinpoint the exact location of Good Greave on a map. I enlisted the help of various Facebook pages and although I had several responses it was still proving difficult to find the location so Greave and Good Greave, both of which are now in ruins, with nothing but ill-defined tracks through the peat bog. One photo purporting to be of Good Greave  shows  a stone doorway and lintel, all that survives of this remote farm.

All that remains of Greave

 Isabella was one of 5 children and the oldest daughter. Her 3 younger siblings had been born in Barnoldswick. Up on the moors living next door, if such it can be called, at Greave, was Thomas Shackleton, a farmer aged 28 , living with his widowed aunt, Jane Uttley aged 67, a retired farmer, and  his sister Sarah Ann and two servants. On December 14, 1873 the 16 year old Isabella married the 31 year old Thomas Shackleton at Halifax minster and Isabella moved to Greave to live with her new husband .

Isabella and Thomas Shackleton

Questions floated around in my head. Where did the Shackletons buy food? Would Isabella have had another woman to help her in childbirth? They were 4 miles from Heptonstall amidst some of the most barren and windswept places in Yorkshire. But the Shackletons appeared to flourish.10 months after their wedding James was born, to be followed by 6 more children, approximately every 2 years. Two died within their first year and one, James, the firstborn when he was 7.

Entitled: Isabella, son ad grandson

JOHN WOLFENDEN

But what happened to  Isabella’s father after his daughter married and moved out? Some time between Isabella’s marriage in 1873 and the 1881 census John Wolfenden had taken over as landlord of the Ridge inn on Widdop Road, now known as the Pack Horse. It claims to be the highest and most isolated pub in the Upper Calder Valley and in January 2004, the pub won the National Civic Pride gold standard award, as the most scenic pub in Britain, beating 200 other pubs.

Pack Horse Inn during lockdown – June 2020

From the Hebden Bridge Newsletter, 29 July, 1881

“IRISH LAWLESSNESS AT WIDDOP. EXTRAORDINARY SCENES. on Wednesday last a report spread rapidly throughout the district that in an Irish affray at Ridge, Alcomden one or more lives had been sacrificed , and in Hebden Bridge particularly the rumour caused some uneasiness and dismay. Happily, as it turned out  there was no fatality, but conduct of a most extraordinary character took place at the place named, which, but for the discreet conduct of the police, might readily have led to serious and possibly fatal consequences. It appears from all we can gather, that on the afternoon of the preceding day, two young Irish mowers, John Devine and Patrick Fox, went to the Pack Horse lnn, Ridge, now kept by Mr. Wolfenden, (Isabella’s dad) and them began is create a disturbance. An Englishmen who was present managed to overcome them, and into the bargain gave them ” a good hiding” (to use a local expression).

The Ridge – 1610.

Next morning  the two returned to the inn along with a number of their fellow-countrymen, and it is presumed they came hoping to find the Englishman and to have  their revenge upon  him for his victory of the previous day. He was not there, however, and the gang at once began to abuse and insult the landlord and his family. Eventually they turned Mr. and Mrs. Wolfenden, and their daughters, (these would be Mary Ellen, 13, and Annie Jane, 9) out of the house and having become for the time masters of the situation, made use of their opportunity to feast and be merry at the expense of someone else. They helped themselves it is said, to the estables which were in the house, also to the beer, spirits and cigars, and to give greater variety to their enjoyment began to break glasses, windows etc. During these orgies one of the men, as we are informed,  took off all his clothes except the fragments of a shirt which he was wearing, and in that condition went outside and exposed himself to the female members of Mr Wolfenden’s household. Fox and Devine were the ringleaders in the affair, and as soon as the attendance of the police could be obtained – which was not until afternoon as the inn is about 5 miles from Hebden Bridge, (on horseback) these two were given into the custody of P.C.s Shaw and Slee who had been sent to the scene. The charges on which they were taken into custody were for refusing to quit and willful damage. The prisoners were handcuffed together and conducted towards Hebden Bridge by the officers followed for a time at a distance by seven men who had taken part in the affair. (So the procession begins the 5 mile trek back to Hebden police station).

The view from the Pack Horse Inn. This was the ‘motorway’ of its day

At Blakedean the officers and their prisoners were overtaken and the gang began to threaten the officers what they would do if they did not liberate the two prisoners.

Blakedean bridge where the officers and prisoners were overtaken – in the middle of nowhere!

There was some struggling and shoving about and one of the men took up a top-stone from a wall (I see the wall on the photo) and threatened to knock P.C Shaw’s brains out if he did not loose the handcuffs and set Devine and Fox free. Seeing, at last, that they would be overpowered and that there was no chance to land their prisoners safely at Hebden Bridge, the officers let the prisoners go, but carefully noted the direction which the gang took with a view of following them when they had obtained further assistance. Shaw and Slee made haste to Hebden Bridge while the gang made in the direction of Colden. About quarter to six P.C’s Shaw and Slee along with P. C Eastwood, P.C’s Norton and Taylor and two civilians set off to try to find the men. At Popples, Heptonstall, the officers separated into two companies, Slee going in one direction and Shaw with the other.

Popples Common – June, 2020

Shaw’s section went first to Longtail beerhouse, (this is on Edge lane and is now terraced cottages) tolerably confident of finding some of the men there, but were disappointed. They learnt however, that some of the men had passed the house previously going towards Colden. The officers then made in that direction and at Old Smithy or Hudson Lane met 4 of the party including Devine and Fox. The other two were Samuel Easterbrook and Thomas Castle and were apprehended on a charge of assisting to procure the rescue of Fox and Devine. Castle made an attempt to escape but was run down and caught. The four men were handcuffed together and led off to the  police station at Hebden Bridge. Their arrival created unusual attention as at that time rumours of a murder having been committed were still current. some of the prisoners were bruised and disfigured about their faces and all acted with considerable bravado as they marched through the streets. One of them, it is said, was the ringleader in a row which took place at Bridge-gate on Sunday week. The rest of the gang were not captured. The 4 prisoners were brought up yesterday morning at West riding Court, Halifax before Capt Rothwell and Dr Alexander. Devine and Fox pleaded guilty to a charge of being drunk and disorderly on the previous day.  . .The men were strangers. They had left their native country being afraid of the Coersion Act. (an act of parliament which allowed the internment without trial for anyone suspected of involvement with the Land War, whereby tenant farmers would gain a fair rent and fixity of tenure) .Fox had left Ireland 8 years before, and Devine 5 years before. The bench imposed upon each prisoner a penalty of 10s and 14s 2d costs with the alternative of 14 days in prison. Easterbrook and Castle were ordered to pay one pound and 14s 2d costs or go to Wakefield for one month with hard labour.”

June 15, 1883 DEAD body found in Widdop reservoir – Queer feelings in Hebden Bridge.

Widdop reservoir, Sept 2018

The water bailiff found a dead body floating in Widdop reservoir. The body belonged to a man aged around 55 and his coat, cap and scarf had been neatly laid on the bank. Judging from the fragments of newspaper in his coat pocket it was surmised that the dead man had come from Burnley, and that he had been taking a wash when he fell, possibly seized with a fit, rather than having deliberately taken his own life, because, the inquest reasoned, he would not have place his clothes so neatly. A boat was taken onto the reservoir and the dead man was taken by cart to the Pack Horse, Widdop to await identification and inquest.

Some Folk in Hebden Bridge immediately began to revert to using well water believing that their running water would have been contaminated by the body, which, judging by its condition, had been in the water for a considerable time. Other stories abounded included people imagining they had seen” bits of toe nails” coming down their pipes. The inquest took place at the house of Mr John Wolfenden at the Packhorse Inn, Ridge. The jurymen viewed the body and then listened to the evidence. By chance  a friend of the deceased’s wife saw a newspaper article about the discovery of a body in Widdop reservoir. He knew that his friend’s husband, Mrs William Whitehead had been missing from home and so they made arrangements to come to hebden Bridge. Apparently they missed the train and had to take a pony trap over the hills from Burnley and arrived at the police station in hebden bridge just as the police officer was returning from The Pack Horse with the clothing recovered at the scene. Mrs Whitehead immedaitely identified them as belonging to her husband. He had been missing from home for three weeks and “had been in a desponding state of mind for some time. Five years before he had attempted suicide by cutting his throat.” An open verdict was returned. After the inquest  what must have been a very badly deteriorated  body was placed in a coffin and transported to Heptonstall for burial but due to some misunderstanding no grave had been prepared for the burial. “The man in charge of the hearse was in a bit of a quandary but eventually he was allowed to deposit his freight in the church porch.’ From where the deceased’s wife collected it around midnight, placed it in a hearse and took it to Burnley at 7:30 the following morning.

 Isabella’s father, John Wolfenden, died at the Pack Horse Inn Widdop on January 27, 1886 .

Four years later on May 16, 1890 Isabella’s husband, Thomas,  died at the age of 58. He was buried at Blakedean Chapel the following day, which seems rather unusual.  The headstone now lies prostrate on the grass. I visited the spot on June  15, 2020, two days after a tremendous thunderstorm in which there was a reported tornado only a couple of miles from this very spot.  

At the graveside, June 2020

At first I couldn’t find the grave but at last I saw a grave stone holding water and could read that this was the family grave  where Thomas and his sons, John, James, Robert Kay and Richard William Foster were laid to rest. What a wonderfully tranquil place. I tried to figure out where the chapel had been. It was built in 1820 as an offshoot of Slack Baptist chapel. All that remains now is the Sunday School which was used as a scouting retreat after the church closed in 1959. My mind raced. Where did the people come from to worship here? Because of the lie of the land being so steep the gallery was accessed by steps from the road above. At the time of her husband’s death Isabelle’s youngest child was 8 months old and now, at the age of just  32 she was  already a  widow. The census of the following year shows Isabella as the head of household and a farmer. Her oldest son, Richard, aged 14 is the ‘farmer’s assistant.’ Her other children are aged 6, 3, 1 other children and her 52 year old sister-in -law is an assistant housekeeper and another Shackleton lady relative, aged 50, is ‘living here own means.’  Both these ladies had both been born at Good Greave.

Isabella – I think she look absolutely lovely here

It took 10 years for Isabella to remarry, and that’s when she becomes part of my family’s story marrying Gibson Butterworth at Slack Chapel on March 27, 1900. Isabella was nine years older than Gibson. How did they meet? OK. It took my a couple of hours to figure it out but Glory Be! I figured out how they met! In 1891 when Ezra Butterworth, Gibson’s dad was living at Hippins he was sharing the large house with John William Wolfenden who, it transpires was none other than Isabelle’s brother.

By the 1911 census the family are living in Nelson – just over Hepstonstall Moor from Good Greave, and Gibson is a  . .  .builder of canal boats. Wow. That was unexpected! From the middle of a moor in one of the most remote parts of England and he becomes a canal boat builder. This is so funny. Yesterday I was in Heptonstall and I was taking another look at the sign in a back street that’s falling apart. It says Boats for Rent. An ‘old timer’ saw me looking and I struck up a conversation. “Boats for hire? Heptonstall is on top of a hill! Where could you sail a boat?” I asked. “Well now. There are reservoirs around here, Gorple, Widdop, Walshaw,” came his response.

Old sign in the back streets of Heptonstall – boats for hire!

As we chatted further it turned out that he knew the dentist that had his office in my living room – Donaldson was his name. That’s the second person I’ve met who remembers my apartment being a dentist’s office. The first was a lady in her 90’s at the Mytholmroyd Community Christmas in 2018. This man in Heptonstall was proud to tell me he is in his 80s. Gibson appears to be a boat builder and working for his son-in-law, Thomas Whitaker from Barnoldswick who is an employer of canal boat builders. How interesting! Isabella died at Moor Lodge, Oakworth near Keighley but is buried at Blakedean. Today it’s a country retreat and from 2003 to 2015 it held international sheepdog trials raising almost 30,000 pounds for the air ambulance.

Entitled: Isabella and Wolfenden family?

After Isabella died  Gibson had planned to emigrated to New Zealand. He boarded the ship called the Shropshire at Liverpool, part of the Federal Line. He was 56 and planned to be a farm hand and was bound for Auckland. 25th Feb 1921. However, he arrived back in England, at London from Wellington 30 Nov 1922 on the Corinthic, part of the Shaw, Savill and Albion Company Ltd. He is 57 describes himself as  a carpenter.

Of Dale House and Higgin House – and the Butterworths

Ezra Butterworth

Two days ago I was thrilled to find a blog which mentioned Scammerton, Pry  and Erringden Grange farms, all farms that had been lived in at various times by one or more of my ancestors. https://landscapestory.co.uk/2020/04/27/april-spring-solace/Like me the writer records chatting to the current farmers. Not only that but the blog was really well written and was obviously the work of someone who is inspired and enthralled by the landscape of this area as much as I am. As I read further I found that to my amazement he visited the ruins of one farm, Dale, even having a picnic in what had once been the living room and when he got back home he went on Ancestry and found out who was living there in 1851: my ancestor, Thomas Butterworth! Now I’d had a few excursions onto this hillside, primarily to look at Winters, a tiny settlement where one of my ancestors had kept a beerhouse, and I knew from old maps where Dale was located, but it wasn’t clear how to get there. Although paths are marked on old maps I have no idea how steep they are, whether they are still in use, whether I need to climb stiles, or walls, or whether they consist of vertical stairways. )

So today off I went armed with current maps, old maps – and a picnic. When I boarded the bus to Blackshaw head the driver asked, “Do you live there? We’re not taking walkers, you know.” Well, no, I didn’t know that, and I’m still not sure that’s the official line, but I was one of two passengers on the bus so it was hardly crowded.

I headed off down Marsh Lane, knowing that led down to Winters and once in the little hamlet I found a diagonal track going steeply towards Dale – in fact, it was so steep and slippery with dry sandy soil that I did a few Heather specials – sitting down and sliding down the path on my rear end. The view across the valley was lovely and for the first time I notice the bulge of Erringden  Moor between me and Stoodley Pike. It almost looked like a glacial drumlin. I knew from the map that this path was only about half a mile but its steepness made it seem much longer. I was too scared of losing my footing and dropping my phone to take photos of the path but I saw a tiny building on my left that I recognized from the Charlestown history site. It appears to be an outside loo with a stream running through it.


This building pictured above is referred to as the Cludgie (name for a toilet), but we are unsure what its original use was. The person on the photo was known as ‘owd Betsy who lived in the cottages.

And then suddenly another path crossed me hugging the contour of the hill and there was Dale – within an arm’s distance. The outside walls of the farm was about 3 ft high and the fireplace and some stone shelving was pretty intact. I welcomed a sit down on the wall after taking photos and was just contemplating setting up my phone for a distanced selfie when someone appeared on the path.

I asked her which was the least steep road back down into the valley and she told me about a set of steps that go all the way down after crossing a little wooden bridge. She seemed in no hurry and so I told her of my reason for visiting the site, how I’d found a blog about it. “Oh, that’s probably Paul’s” she responded. She lives in the valley and had great knowledge about local history resources. She even took my photo and emailed it to me so I didn’t have to bother with the distanced selfie!

Bridge over Dale clough

Finishing my picnic I followed her directions and crossed the wooden bridge over Dale Clough and the stairs awaited me.

At the top of the stairs was another ruined building, Higgin House and I stopped to take a couple of photos but it was impossible to step within its walls because it’s completely overgrown by large trees. Then I tackled the steps. From looking at contour maps it would seem that they ran vertically for almost 500 ft, but fortunately for much of the time there was either a wall, or an iron railing to steady myself.

The way down

As I eventually reached level ground I found myself at Knott Hall which I’d ‘discovered’ a few weeks ago from another path. I followed Oakville Road, avoiding the main road and retracing my steps from 2 days ago. I knew that a row of terraced houses here once housed a non-alcoholic brewery in the cellar. It was owned by Billy Holt’s father. I’d reread Billy Holt’s autobiography during the lockdown. He had once lived at Hawdon Hall and the current owners of that place that given me the book as a birthday present last year. Small world! I’d wondered which house had been the brewery. At that moment a lady came from round the back of the cottages so I asked her if she knew the answer to my question. She pointed to a separate cottage and told me that the beer cellar had now been filled it. It was the house that I’d taken a photo of and sent to my daughters a little while ago because there’s a trampoline on the garage roof! http://www.hebdenbridgehistory.org.uk/charlestown/oakville.html#old

Billy Holt’s dad’s brewery ( with trampoline)

Of Thomas Butterworth

The first time I can locate Thomas with any degree of certainty is when he married Alice Jackson at Heptonstall church  on October 20, 1811. They are both from Stansfield. There is a possibility that Thomas was baptized 6 June 1792 at Warley. I selected ‘that’ Thomas because his father was Ezra, and Thomas named one of his sons Ezra. In 1813 the first of their 7 or possibly 8 children was born, a daughter, Charlotte. 6 of the children were baptised at Myrtle Grove chapel on the same day, June 25, 1837. This meant that Charlotte was 24 when she was baptized, Richard 20, Sarah 17, Abrahma 15, Thomas 13 and Ezra 10. William was born in 1841 after a 10 year gap – strange. Last autumn when the leaves fell I noticed for the first time a cemetery close to the road to Todmorden and a few days later I overheard a conversation in which someone else was remarking on the fact that they’d never noticed the cemetery before.  Apparently this is all that remains of Myrtle Grove chapel, Eastwood. From the Charlestown history site: By the early 1800s, with the coming of industrialisation, the population was moving from the tops into the valley bottom. Discussions about moving the chapel began in about 1805 and local gentry settled endowments for the new chapel to be built. The new chapel opened in the summer of 1807 was called Myrtle Grove and stood on the site that later became Eastwood Railway station. It had a capacity of 500 people.

The congregation again declined from about 1820. In 1838 the railway petitioned to include the site of the Chapel and it was purchased by the railway company in the following year. A view of the Eastwood population at this time but there’s no source given:

“It must not be imagined from what has been written so far, that the inhabitants of Eastwood were all upright and honest citizens. there were evildoers in those days as there are now, and laws against theft or damage to property were much more drastic. Tradition has it that representatives of the village were sent as convicts to Australia. Stealing was by no means uncommon and occasionally cloth was taken from the handlooms. Hand weaving persisted for a long time after the coming of the power loom, and the weavers sometimes took precautions against theft by tying the warp ends to their feet before retiring for the night……The less reputable amongst the population indulged in such sports as cock fighting, rabbit coursing, clog fights or wrestling for wagers. The Non Conformists on the other hand, still strongly under the influence of puritan tradition, looked askance at such pleasures and regarded them as enticements of the Devil”. A new chapel was built and opened in 1840 so it would have been at the old chapel that Thomas and Alice had their children baptized.

Description: yrtle Grove

(from the Charlestown history site).

Another snippet  which amused me was this: A few years ago one of the group was taking stuff to the tip at Eastwood and saw a small wooden model in a skip. She rescued it and later we discovered that it was of Eastwood Chapel. The three photos below show the level of detail on the model. Who made it, when or why, we don’t know.

The model of Myrtle Grove chapel

Back to Thomas and his growing family. In 1841 the Butterworths were one of four families living at Higgin House, and Thomas is a worsted weaver. Yesterday, after I’d left the ruins of Dale I passed another ruin and took a photo of the place. This turns out to be Higgin House! It’s perched directly at the top of that steep flight of stairs. According to the Charlestown site it was once part of the Horsfall estate. (Leave that for a rainy day!) I wonder if the ‘sled road’ mentioned below was the steep stepped path I walked down yesterday:

The Rebuilding of Underbank House
The building of the New House that replaced the Great House at Underbank. John Lister Horsfall’s account book records the pulling down and building of the present day Underbank house (short of the Thomson’s modifications of course). The following is a summary.

First a sled road was made to allow stone to be pulled from Castle Hill to Underbank. Work began on March 10 and finished on March 20, 1834. This stone was used for “fronting” and for rebuilding some field walls. The road was then brought across the Higgin house and the Orchard field. This required 5 people and another to cut trees and cost 2 pounds, 18 shillings and 6 pence.

1851 find the Butterworth at Dale and by 1861 Thomas and Alice, both woolen weaver have moved to Underbank and their son, Ezra, has taken on the role of head of household, a plate layer for the railway line and a widower at the age of 33. However, there was less than 6 months between his first wife Sarah  Horsfall. (Higgin House was part of the Horsfall’s estate!)  dying and his marriage to Mary Gibson, daughter of the innkeeper of the Bull Inn, Hebden Bridge, who hanged himself in this slaughter house – see other postings in my blog). According to the handwritten account of Ezra’s life Sarah died in childbirth. “At some time he married, but, unfortunately his wife was a kleptomaniac, and was always taking home things she did not need and had not paid for. While this was a great worry to Ezra, it did not raise the problems at that time, in such a small community as Hebden Bridge then was, as it would today. Ezra just returned the goods to the under- standing shopkeepers and that was the end of the matter. She died early in married life on the birth of her first child. Ezra then met and married Mary Gibson.
She was also born on a small farm called Winters at Eastwood on 5th September 1830. She was the fourth child and first daughter and always said she was unwanted as her mother disliked girls. However other daughters were born and they were accepted. Mary ran away from home when she was eight years old to her grandmother who kept a coaching inn in Bridge Lanes, The Bull. She spent a happy childhood there and had many tales to tell of people who frequented the inn.
She was a good teller of tales and one which made a great impression on us was of the young woman who was poor and sold things from door to door. On being asked why she was doing this she said, “When I was young a well-to-do old man wanted to marry me but I loved a young man who was poor. We married but soon he died.” She added “But many’s the time I’ve rued that day for the old man’s brass ‘ud a bought a new pony.”
It was this grandmother who when Mary was young, once pointed to the smoke of a house chimney and said solemnly “Mary, whenever there’s a neck there’s trouble.”

As a young girl she was apprenticed to Molly Day, a dressmaker. where she learned to sew most beautifully making voluminous dresses of the time entirely by hand.
She and Ezra must always have known one another though it was not until June 1860 that they were married. Her brothers had warned her of Ezra’s drinking habits like many others associated with the railways in their early days. It was his great weakness.

They started married life at Weasel Hall, which is still there and can be seen on the hill- side from the main street in Hebden Bridge. (In fact that is the very view that I currently have as I sit at my desk in my living room). There on the 29th January Grace was born and two years later Gibson.”

My painting of Grace – from a photo

Thomas died at the grand old age of 75  in 1868 and he’s buried at St James’s in Hebden Bridge (where I sometime play the organ for services)  but I’ve been unable to find him on the burial plot map.

P.S – Crazy fact from the Charlestown history site that I found while researching this page :
The Rochdale canal at Charlestown was crossed by an iron bridge which by 1934 was showing serious signs of wear. In 1939 track subsidence made it necessary for the bridge to be replaced. The job was given to Dorman Long who also built Sydney Harbour Bridge. What?????

Crazy coincidence: 2 days after writing about my trip to Dale I received a message about the website that took me to Dale – from the Heptonstall Historical Society of which I am a member:

I’m going to carry on sharing items of online interest that have come my way for the lockdown period. Let’s start with an absolutely gorgeous website of photographs and writing about our local landscape and its history put together by Paul Knights. Enjoy: https://landscapestory.co.uk/

Abraham Moss

Abraham Moss 

Abraham Moiss

16 Ap 1859 to 25 Jan 1917

On November 26, 2018 I climbed  the steep hill of Birchcliffe Road above Hebden Bridge. I was in search of several buildings that had been lived in, and in some cases specifically built for, my ancestors. Yes, these are quite distant ancestors, but at this gloomy time of year when it’s dark by 3:30 p.m. going in search of houses that I can walk to from my apartment is an interesting way to spend some of the daylight hours, and so then in the evening, I can research online more about what I’ve discovered during the day. So as I searched the street perched on the hillside with one of the best views in town, which I later, by the way, learned was known as Snob Row (!) I saw a sign on a gate: ‘Brooklyn. Please use the back door. These steps are dangerous.’ I’m not sure what caused me to take a photo of the sign on the gate but recently I discovered that these steps had played a very important role in the life, or rather, death of one Abraham Moss. 

The steps

Now Abraham was the father-in-law of my 3rd cousin, two times removed. As I said, a rather distant relative. He was the son of Hague Moss, (26 June, 1824- July 1870) a career fustian cutter, born at Machpelah, a section of  Hebden Bridge devoted to the fustian industry. Hague’s father was James Moss jn (1804-1868) and his wife, Mary. Fustian is a thick, hard-wearing cloth made from cotton that was once used for military uniforms and railway workers. Hebden Bridge was the centre of the fustian industry and was known sometimes as Fustianopolis. In the market square there’s a large sculpture of a fustian knife showing what a central role this industry played in the town.

Close up of the fustian knife in St George’s Square showing scenes from the fustian industry. It even shows Machpelah cottages where Abraham lived.
The fustian knife in St George’s Square

By the time Hague was four years old the family had moved to Thorn Bank, close by, where Sarah and I had stayed in an Airbnb in 2017! Coincidence number 2.

By 1841 the family were living at Garden Square and Hague’s father James is a fustian cutter. They were living next to William Wheelhouse, 45, a joiner with his wife, Mary, and 4 children. Hague Moss married Martha Sarah Wheelhouse on June 23, 1845 at Halifax minster where I once had the privilege of playing the organ, and I’ve also sung at evensong, and also in Faure’s Requiem in 2019.

The newly weds made their home in Garden Square which is now merely a car park which doubles as the outdoor market on Thursdays and the flea market on Fridays.

Garden square before demolition

8 children followed in the next 15 years, Abraham being next to the youngest. By the time Abraham was born the family were living at High Street, Bridge Lanes. The area of Bridge Lanes was mostly demolished in the 1960’s the terraced houses having been neglected and left unoccupied for many years and it had become an unsightly entrance to Hebden Bridge from the Todmorden side. Abraham’s father died  when he was only 11 years old and by that time the family had moved to Royd Terrace, at the lower end of the Buttress, the still cobbled steep road up to Heptonstall.

Royd Terrace with the cobbles of The Buttress on the left

During the battle of Heptonstall in the Civil War, 1643,  the Parliamentarian garrison of around 800 men holding Heptonstall  had rolled stones down The Buttress to prevent the Royalist forces, also numbering around 800 men. The attackers were routed but during the following 2 months  the Parliamentarian garrison evacuated the village and the Royalists were able to capture the village with no resistance.

The houses of Royd Terrace in which Abraham had lived were now built until 1848-1852 and all but one house retain their original glazing

My photo of Royd Terrace

A friend of mine lived in the only one to have double glazing installed. On his marriage, in 1881 at Heptonstall church, (where I am now on the organists’ rota) to Mary Hannah Thomas, daughter of Thomas Thomas (!) a coal merchant, the couple moved to Barker’s Terrace. Both Abraham and Mary signed their own names and Thomas Thomas signed as witness.

My photo of Barker’s Terrace

Abraham was a commercial clerk in a fustian warehouse. Three months after their wedding their first of seven children was born, a daughter, Beatrice Louise at 13 Melbourne Street.

13 Melbourne Street

 

13 Melbourne Street

In White’s 1887 Directory many Mosses are recorded:

Moss Abraham (Bros) h in Brunswick Terrace

Moss Bros. fustian manufacturers and cutters, Brunswick Works

Moss( G. F & C. W) h Bridge Lanes

Moss Frederick Hague (Bros) h Brunswick St

Moss George Frederick (G.F & C.W)  h Bridge Lanes

Moss James (Bros) h Pleasant Villas

Moss Mortimer (bros) h Brunswick House

The fustian factory on Brunswick street – now apartments

My the 1901 census Abraham is listed as a cotton fustian manufacturer, an employer, and later that year a daughter, Phyllis Margaret was born, seven years after the last (living) child. The 1911 mentions that one child has already died.  He is now living on Snob Row, in Brooklyn, where I’d photographed the sign on the gate. The house had 9 rooms and they had a live-in general servant. What a difference from 2 High Street. I was able to view the plans for the house at West Yorkshire Archives though each leaf fell apart in my hands as I opened it. It would appear that the plans were drawn up by John Sutcliffe, architect, on December 20, 1894 but the approval date of December 27, 1894 has been crossed out. This was the same architect who drew up the plans from Ezra Butterworth five years earlier. But what an extravagant house it was – especially compare to the houses Abraham had lived in before.




The previous level of the land, marked by the blue line, is clearly visible.
The steps are marked on the architect’s drawing of the front elevation
Brooklyn today with its fatal steps

However, sadness and tragedy were just around the corner for the family. Phyllis died, aged 13 and three years later Abraham himself died. Imagine my horror when I read in a local newspaper that he had died as a result of falling down those very steps. I do wonder, from a morbid sense of curiosity, if the people who put the notice on the steps know of Abraham’s accident. 

FATAL FALL AT HEBDEN BRIDGE. SAD END OF A WELL-KNOWN We very much regret to have to announce the death of Mr. Abraham Moss, Brooklyn, Hebden Bridge, and especially so considering the melancholy circumstances under which happened. The gentleman on Wednesday evening was found laid in an unconscious condition at the foot of the steps leading to his own house, with a deep gash on the side of his head, and from this injury he died at two o’clock yesterday morning without regaining consciousness. So far as we can gather from particulars collected from various sources the circumstances are these: Mr. Moss had been down in the town and parted from Mr. A. Moore at Top o’ th’ Hill about ten o’clock on his way home. In the course of half an hour or so, Mr. T. Fenton Greenwood was on his way home to Eiffel Street, and when he got opposite to the gate the residence Mr. Moss he heard some deep breathing, bat as he had no means of making a light and the night being very dark, he could not make out any object. Mr. Ernest Whiteoak, Eiffel St., came up almost immediately afterwards, and struck match and the light revealed Hr. Moss laid at the bottom of a flight of dosen steps, with his head resting in a large pool blood and perfectly unconscious. On the right side of his head there was a large wound from which the blood was issuing. Mrs. Moss was acquainted with the facte and her husband was carried to the house and Dr. Sykes summoned, and that gentleman found that Mr. Moss was suffering from fractured skull. Whether he had fallen from the top of the steps or not does not appear clear, but the sloping asphalt from the top of the steps was very .ppory. Judging from the position the body it would appear that Mr. Moss had fallen backward and his head had either struck the wall or the steps in his fall. The facts have been reported to the Coroner. The news of the sad occurrence created quite sensation in the town yesterday morning. * Mr. Moss was well known in Hebden Bridge and district. He was the younger son the late Mr, Haigh Moss, and many years was associated with his brothers in tile fustian manufacturing, dyeing and finishing business at Brunswick Street, Lee Mill and Bridge Boyd, up to few years ago, when he retired, and since then he has not followed any occupation. He was one the .directors of the English Fustian Association up to the time his death. For good many years he had been one of the local representatives on the Todmorden Board of Guardians. He was first elected in 1898, and remained member up to 1910. Three years later he was again elected, and had been a Guardian ever since. He took great interest the affairs of that body, and for a term was its chairman. For many years he was a very active member of the Hebden Bridge Commercial Association. He was an enthusiastic member the local Angling Club. Though he associated himself with the Constitutional Club he did not take any part in the aggressive work of the Conservative party. Free Masonry claimed a considerable portion of his time, he having filled offices in the Prince Frederick Lodge. He was one of the band of young men who received a considerable portion of their education the classes held in connection with the defunct Hebden Bridge Mechanics’ Institute. He took interest in electricity, and according to bis own story, he along with the late Mr. B. 8. Blackburn installed the first telephone in Hebden Bridge, connecting the house of one of his brothers to the firm’s premises. He was closely associated with the Particular Baptist Church, and was good supporter of that institution. His nature was kindly and sympathetic and he was ever ready to give financial assistance when occasion demanded it, and in this way he has displayed a liberal generosity. Mr. Moss, who was 67 years of age, leaves widow and five children. Two his sons are serving in the army, Walter in France and Reginald in India. The inquest will he held to-morrow afternoon.

When he died he left just short of 40,000 pounds to his wife. This was in 1917 and many of the other people on that page of the probate records had just a few hundred pounds to their name. He was initiated into the Prince Frederick Free Masons Lodge on March 3, 1890 along with Richard Redman, clothier from Pleasant Villas, and James Moss, fustian manufacturer, also from Pleasant Villas.

From The Hebden Bridge Times, January 30, 2006

WHEN the history of Fustianopolis – alias Hebden Bridge – comes to be written, it will be recorded that it died of apathy. I have now been waiting in vain for a month for somebody hereabouts to protest about the East Anglian train operator, One, banning cab drivers from wearing corduroy.

Under new licence conditions, cabbies at Lowestoft and Great Yarmouth stations must wear black trousers and black shoes with a collared or polo shirt. For women the regulations require a black skirt and blouse with a collar. No corduroy, not even black corduroy.

The company says: “Cords were included in the list of unacceptable clothing as they can look quite scruffy when they get faded. When the guidelines were being clarified, it was noticed that several drivers were wearing light coloured cords which had frayed and looked quite nasty at the knees”.

This is a bit lame. Are they objecting to corduroy or to fraying corduroy? If the latter, then they could simply have prescribed smart corduroy instead of banning it outright.

This is – or should be – of serious concern to Hebden Bridge. Nowhere has more corduroy been woven per head of population than in this town. My parents and several aunts wove miles of it on Hangingroyd at the CWS and Ashworth’s below where Foster Lane chapel once stood. My father went deaf in the service of corduroy and my aunts emerged from kissing shuttles in the CWS with a halo of cotton fuzz collected in their hair.

Corduroy was the life’s work of so many of my parents’ generation, and to think it has come to this: banned by the transport industry for being scruffy. Of course, anything can look scruffy if it is worn long enough. But that is no reason to ban corduroy that retains its rib (with musical consequences when you walk) and its sheen. Perhaps the problem is that it takes long periods of hard duty to wear thin.

Corduroy has, in fact, gone up in the world since it was the uniform of the academic, the Leftie intelligentsia, if that is not a contradiction in terms, and the wild and woolly end of the sandal-shod Liberal Democrats. It has, indeed, been on a long upward social march since it clothed the navvy and hard working man and had the likes of George Orwell, author of 1984, the Road to Wigan Pier etc, dressing, according to Malcolm Muggeridge, in the manner of the class into which he wished he had been born.

The fact that I have three pairs of corduroy trousers – the latest in a long line going back to my childhood – is no guide to the fabric’s social standing. I believe in supporting home industries and regard jeans, with their marked tendency for the backside to sag alarmingly, as thoroughly sloppy.

Which brings me back to the shameful apathy of Hebden Bridge in the face of East Anglian provocation. Corduroy is not some foreign-produced relic of Hebden Bridge’s once central position in the fustian trade. It is part of the 1m metres – otherwise 621,504 yards or 353 miles – of cloth that Brisbane Moss weaves, dyes and finishes every year at Bridgeroyd Works, Eastwood.

Hang it all, corduroy is part of our heritage. Since the middle of the 19thC, Moss Brothers – now Brisbane Moss – has been producing it along with moleskins. This company became part of the English Fustian Manufacturing Co when the local trade re-organised to meet the competition from another amalgamation of clothing and dyeing companies called the English Velvet Cord Dyeing Company.

Moss Brothers Brunswick Mill in Hebden Bridge may now be a Co-op superstore. But Bridgeroyd Works remain our link with the Industrial Revolution. And I for one do not intend to allow some obscure railway company on the Broads to disparage its Pennine products. Wear corduroy with pride – and in protest.

Just to see the contrast between the home in which Abraham was born and the one where he died shows the strength of character and determination of the man.

I pass this reference to Abraham Moss almost everyday. The bridge spans Hebden water and was constructed in 1892 and is Grade ll listed

Underbank

A Morning exploring Underbank

Surprisingly it wasn’t raining when I looked out of the window this morning. It even looked a little less gloomy than I was expecting so I wanted to take advantage of this ‘fine weather.’ I spent  more than an hour planning my route – the area of steep hillside below Winters. I’d discovered more ancestors living in this area but the various maps I had seemed to have conflicting ideas about what constitutes a decent sized path. At this time of year the very steep paths are coated in slippery leaves. But even more dangerous than these are the steep cobbles of ancient roads whose moss ridden stones are a veritable nightmare, especially heading down the hillsides. 

Built into the hillside

I walked along the canal to Stubbings Square where one of my ancestors lived. Though I’d passed the entrance to this little square many times I’d never actually gone in to the ‘square’ so here was my opportunity. Rather pretty old stone buildings. 


Stubbings Square

Then on to Oakville Road which led up into the hills. As I turned a corner in the road I saw a train heading directly towards me which scared me for a moment. There was actually a wall between me and it, though if my arms had have been a tad longer I’m sure I could have touched it.  I was to take the paved Turret Royd Road, (where another ancetsor had lived at #4) pass the last building and then continue on a footpath. Hmm – no sign of a path past the last house so I had to retrace my steps and take the lower road instead.

This eventually turned into a very, very narrow track, part path, part stream. It led past old  buildings towards the main road and so I turned right over a little bridge and headed upwards again. Scattered cottages and ‘halls’ edged the path but many of them didn’t appear to have names. One fine building was built directly into the hillside, being barely 6 ft high at the back and 3 stories high at the front.

This hillside was directly opposite Stoodley Pike and the sun was trying desperately to find its way between heavy clouds. It was quite pictureque. Eventually I came across a couple heading towards me. “You seem to know where you are going” I ventured as we drew level outside Higher Underbank farm. “Yes, we live here,” came the reply. I asked for directions back down to the valley on a road that wouldn’t be too steep and slippery. “Ah, the best way would be to go through our garden, through the gate, turn right, meet a cart road and go past the mill and turn left.”

So off I went. I was very grateful for the short cut through their garden which eliminated some of the steeper, overgrown  paths. I soon came to Potball. How’s that for a name? I had seen the name on my map before I’d left home. It turned out to be an imposing building directly overlooking the Calder Valley with an uninterrupted view across to Stoodley Pike. Then down past the ruins of Jumble Hole Mill. I think I’ve only been here once before and that was on a hike in the summer before I moved to Hebden Bridge. The ivy and moss soften the jagged outlines of ruined walls and broken pillars turning everything into elfin territory where everything is a brilliant vibrant green. 

Ruins of Jumble Hole Mill

Fairy glen
The power for the mill

Soon I came to the railway tunnel and, on going under it found myself on the main road.

A little father on another tunnel was signposted Underbank House and I took a little detour to see this imposing mansion with its wrought iron gates, alarm system, cctv cameras – and trampoline! I don’t think John Gibson would have lived there in 1861. He was a plate layer for the railway – the same job as Ezra Butterworth.

It was very noisy walking along the main road back towards Hebden but I suddenly saw  above me on the left three terraces and I could just make out through the trees the sign Ingle dene on the first group. Each house had a steep flight of steps going up to the front door and I went up one of those to get a better view.

The next block was Ivy Bank, and the last block was Fern Villas but that only consisted of two houses. A man was just leaving, being taken for a walk by his dog, and I asked him about a third house. He believed that one had been demolished, and, sure enough a grassy area to the right of the terrace suggested that he was correct. 

New graffiti on the roadside mill

A morning in Winters

Winters

A week ago I hadn’t even heard of Winters. I was coming to the end of tracking the homes of the Gibsons and had become intrigued by a strain of Gibsons who kept pubs in my local area, not always successfully, and some with tragic consequences, but I thought this would be a good research project for the dark winter evenings. When I came upon the fact that one pub was located in the appropriately named Winters – well, that was a no brainer. So the first day that the weather was reasonable enough to tramp over the moors I set off to find Winters. I’d discovered a Winter’s Lane  perched high up on the hillside just below Badger Lane in Blackshaw so I caught the bus to Blackshaw Head. Other places that I’d listed as residences of the Gibson family were on my list too. I knew that I’d previously taken photos of a row of old cottages called Dry Soil just because the name amused me – and now I’d found out that a Gibson relative had lived there: John Gibson  in 1881.




He’d also lived in Cally Hall (1871 census) which was another group of cottages on Badger Lane close by. I’d taken a photo of those picturesque cottages too with their amazing view over the Calder Valley, and I remember finding out that the name Cally had come from Calico cloth. So I stopped to take another photo now that I knew John Gibson had lived there in 1871 and had died there in 1887. (He’d also lived at Underbank at the bottom of the hill in 1861, but that was for another day).

Todmorden Advertiser and Hebden Bridge Newsletter – 15 April 1887

I’d taken a copy of an 1861 map with me and a current ordinance survey map and I knew I was turn off Badger Lane at Marsh Lane. I found what I thought was the correct lane – a a well-used Bridle path but there was no road sign. A man was just turning into it with no hesitation and so I called out,

“Is that Marsh Lane?’

“Yes.”

I crossed over.

“Do you mind if I join you for a little while I’m looking for Winter’s Mill.’’

He knew the place and so we followed the well-marked bridle path down. He was from Colne and had left his car on Badger Lane, was hiking down to Hebden for coffee, and then would take the bus back up to the car.

“I’ve always wanted to move to Hebden but my wife finds it depressing,” 

I was looking for a mill pond where water would have been stored and used to keep the machinery at mill moving at dry times of the year. It was the pond’s presence on the map which had alerted me to the mill site because there’s nothing remaining of the mill today. The row of cottages marked on my 1861 map came into view and my hiking buddy mentioned that the old mill pond is now a garden at the back of the cottages.

Cottages at Winters

The only definitive remains of the mill was a picturesque arch with initials and date carved above. A well positioned bench overlooked the valley and we sat and chatted, asking him about the accessibility of some of the footpaths back down to the valley. The Pennine Way passes this way but from the map it looks very steep and wooded and  probably not a good option for today. The man agreed. 

I wanted to take a photo of the cottages but trees were blocking my view so eventually I decided to go up the steep drive and see if anyone came out. At that moment I car came upon the drive and the owner of the end house, which had obviously once been a barn rolled down the window.

“Can I help you?” I explained my presence and she was very helpful. “You can walk right through the front gardens” she said. “It’s a public right of way.” So off I went along the front of the 4 cottages. As I stopped to take photos a couple with a toddler came towards me. Again I explained my mission. “We’ve just bought the end house, but haven’t moved in yet. Would you like to come in and see it?” For whatever reason this house seemed the most likely place for John Gibson’s shop and beer retailers as listed in Pigot’s directory of 1834. This John Gibson, born in 1780 and died in 1837 was the grandfather of the Dry Soil and Cally Hall John Gibson! Before moving to Winters he had previously been innkeeper of the Black Bull at Bridge Lanes recorded in 1811, 1822 and 1829.  Inside  the house the place was amazing. All the walls were exposed stone and the rooms retained their stone flag floors. The ceilings were not more than 6’6” high and the stone fireplaces were intact, though they now had stoves inset. I immediately wondered about damp and cold penetrating into the house but it was lovely.

The lady took me out back and within 6” of the back door was a small gully running with fast water over which a stone flat led into the large garden, half of which had obviously been the mill pond. An old water pump remained at the side of the pond. Again I wondered what this must be like in heavy rain but it looked lovely. I told her that my daughter Anna would just love such a place with a bare stone interior! Her husband asked for my email and said that the cottage had come with lots of old documents. I do hope he contacts me – but I guess I can always call now I know where they live. He said the cottage was built around 1730 but isn’t a listed building. I took my leave and wandered around the area for a while trying to find any signs of the mill but many of the tracks were took steep and slippery to explore today. The couple did tell me that there is an old photo of the mill but I can’t find it on Pennine horizons or the Charlestown website even though there’s a history of the mill on the latter site. The only one I can find was taken in the 1940’s of a lady outside the building that was then used as a toilet!

According to the Charlestown history site the mill was built in 1805 by John Sutcliffe. Between 1827 and 1832 the mill was purchased by William Horsfall and it seems likely that it was at that time that it was  converted to steam power to be able to cope with competition from other manufacturers. In 1842 the mill was capable of turning raw cotton into finished cloth. It had departments for carding, spinning (4360 spindles) and weaving (90 power looms ). It was said to be the largest manufacturer of sateens and dimitie going into Manchester.

By the 1841 census there were 32 men, women and children listed as living in Winters: cotton spinners, weavers, carders, winders. The only person not engaged at the mill was Joshua Gibson, 35, and his wife Sally, 35 who were farmers.  Soon after from 1844 to 1855 Joshua and Sally and their 9 children were living in Bridge Lanes and he was a farmer of 5 acres employing an unreadable number of workers. He gave up his license in 1855 and Richard Parker took on the job of landlord at the Black Bull, Bridge Lanes.  and two years later he’s listed as a butcher. The following year he hanged himself in his slaughter house on May 30th, 1858 and was buried at Heptonstall church three days later.

View of the Calder Valley from Winters

In 1842 and 1864 two surveys were carried out regarding the value of the machinery, buildings, utensils and livestock. In 1864 the mill consisted of:

  • Blowing room
    Carding room
    Cellar
    Throstle Room
    Mule rooms
    New mill
    Nos. 1,2 & 3 rooms
    Beaming room?
    Storehourse, store room & office
    Boiler house, engine house
    Yard and gas piping
  • There was also a smithy and a mechanics shop.
  • The 1842 evaluation for the domestic building included: Old white cow, Red and white cow and Roan cow,The new cow, Old stable manure, Bay mare, shaft and trace, General farming utensils and 3 stable buckets, 2 pack carts, Box tubs, lumber, wheel barrow and hand barrow, 2 water tubs

One interesting entry was for articles to be found in the ‘room over the school’ so Winters had its own schoolroom in 1842! By the next census in 1851 the mill employed about 75-90 people. Some workers lived on site eg at Winters Cottages (1851 census shows 63 people living at Winters with two cottages empty),

On February 25, 1868 the mill was struck by lightning.In1877 William raised more capital by a second mortgage on the mill and Underbank, but had trouble keeping up payments to suppliers and creditors.

The name Winters

By the end of 1880 the business, now owned by William Horsfall,  was effectively Bankrupt. In March 1881 the machinery and engine boiler were sold and part or all of the mill was sold off for stone.The old part of Winters Mill used mules to spin yarn (called twist) and the newer part was used for power looms to manufacture fustian cloth In 1839 the coming of the railway meant that the mill could get raw cotton from Liverpool and send finished goods to Manchester much quicker.

Winters Lane

I returned to Winter’s Lane thinking how many more people must have lived in this vicinity both the keep the mill going and also to necessitate a shop and beer house in the 1830’s. I’d checked with the locals that my planned route was easy to follow and it was. Winter’s Lane can carry vehicles but it ends and turns into a tiny track called Dark lane. This was more like Dark River today but my new hiking boots were up to the task. Dark Lane led back onto another lane  that was just about passable by car, though very steep,  although bags of salt were stationed every ten yards in anticipation of icy weather. The sound of traffic along the Calder Valley rose up to the path and the whistle of the train blended in with the birdsong from time to time. 

Dark Lane

Eventually I came out onto Rawtenstall Bank,  a very steep road, though fully paved for cars,  with several switchbacks. I decided not to take the short cut down Cat Steps!

A few terraces are strewn along the road and they are at a crazy angle with their roof line close to 45 degrees. One of these terraces is Glenview, and in 1901 and 1911 Arthur Gibson, Joshua’s grandson,  was living at #9. Arthur was Thomas Gibson’s son. Thomas Gibson had been a butcher all his life, growing up in Winters and presumably attending the school there. At the age of 21 he married Hannah Stott and they had 9 children , the youngest being Arthur, 1873-1957. Arthur had been employed in the clothing industry all his life, first as a tailor’s apprentice then as a fustian cutter. A lady was just coming out of her house as a took a photo of the terrace. “I’m tracing my ancestors. They used to live at #9” I explained. “Ah, that’s that’s  end one.” Weird. The last one was number 8! Ah well. Perhaps the terrace was longer at one time. 

Glenview

My next stop was 16 Bank Terrace, in 1911 the home of Joshua’s great granddaughter Ethel Gibson-Atack, and so the great great granddaughter of John Gibson who I had stated the day with. It is through Ethel’s husband, Harold Atack that I am related to Barbara Atack the president of the Hebden Bridge Historical society. When I first moved here and joined the society Barbara told me that her husband’s father had lived in Cheetham House where I was then living! Bank Terrace is so steep that it looks as if it’s falling down the hillside. 

I turned off Rawtenstall bank onto Oakville Road where some imposing Victorian mansions are set up high above the road. At one of these, Oak Villa another Gibson relative – Mary Gibson-Butterworth lived in 1881. Mary was Joshua’s daughter and so had lived at the shop/inn that her father kept at Winters and was 11 years old on the1841 census. I wonder if she went to the school in Winters. 10 years later, in 1851,  she was a servant at the inn in Hawksclough which I’ve not yet quite found, though I’ve been researching that too. Richard Parker was the innkeeper. Remember, a Richard Parker had taken over the license of the Black Bull at bridge Lanes from Joshua (Mary’s dad). In 1861 Mary married Ezra Butterworth a plate layer for the railway company and she was the housekeeper at the now demolished White Horse Inn in Lee’s Yard, Hebden Bridge. My 1871 they are living on Crown Street, my street, and Ezra is still an employee of the railway company but by 1881 at  the age of 51 Ezra is now a farmer with 9 ares of land and he’s living in Oak Villa just off Rawtenstall End. The houses on either side of Oak Villa each have a live-in general servant. Mary and Ezra seem to have gone up in the world. Very rapidly. I just don’t understand their rapid rise in finances.  In correspondence with author Frank McKenna, Will Thorne, a Victorian platelayer himself, stated that the platelayer was the ‘most neglected man in the service.’ (McKenna, The Railway Workers, p.35-36). ‘The railways were one of the few organisations in the Victorian period where someone from a lowly background could rise up to better their ‘lot’ in life. For many, these opportunities were small, but for the industrious they definitely existed. However, excluding women, who could not advance for obvious reasons, one group of railway employees had almost no opportunities to advance beyond their station. These were the platelayers. By 1860, W.M. Mills stated that on Britain’s 8863 miles of railway there were 8598 platelayers. Gangs of platelayers were marshalled under a foreman or ganger, and were allocated a section of line to look after. This had to be inspected twice a day and any faults in the track’s gauge, level and superelevation were to be mended by using their picks, shovels, hammers, wrenches and track gauges. They also had to maintain line side fences and keep the culverts clear, as well as retrieve any item that may have fallen from a train. All these tasks were to be done in all weathers.

Further, to this, platelayer’s working conditions were the poorest of any railway employees. For six days a week they had to be on duty between 6am and 6pm, and at the end of the day they had to make sure that the line was clear and in good working order. Naturally, if the work had not been completed by 6pm, they had to stay until it was done so. Pay was probably the worst of any railway employees, apart from women, and the hard graft was rewarded with a measly 17 to 21 shillings per week. Indeed, sickness on a Sunday would mean that a platelayer would forfeit his Monday pay.’

(Turniprail.blogspot.com: the site of Dr David Turner)

I fail to see how Ezra, son of a handloom weaver, a labourer still living at Dale with his parents at the age of 24, a plate layer for the railway at 33 has amassed the money to build several houses in the centre of Hebden Bridge. In the census of 1871 his describes himself as a ‘railway contractor’ and has built, according to Grace’s bio, ‘some houses on Carlton Terrace on the site of what is now the Cooperative building.’ In Feb 1889 he commissioned an architect to draw up plans for the construction of two houses and a missal on Savile Road. The building plan, which I found in the archives, has ‘dis’ pencilled in above the ‘Date of Approval by the Council,’ therefore reading ‘disapproval.’ Hmm . . . this man is really proving to be an enigma for by 1891 he is residing there. This gentleman’s residence remains today, a showpiece of the man who made it!

Oak Villa

Oh, oh my. The very next day I thought I’d try and find out more about Ezra’s rise to the upper class and I seriously couldn’t believe my eyes. On Ancestry I found a 34 page document entitled the Life and Times of Ezra Butterworth, 1827-1898 as told by his daughter  Grace,  1863-1944,  to her four children and recounted by them to his great granddaughters, all handwritten by Barbara Moss. It had been uploaded by ‘mossquire’ who I had exchanged several emails with about the Moss family over the last few weeks and so I’d never even thought to look for Gibson’s in his info online! I read quickly through some of the pages and it turns out that Ezra sent his daughter, Grace to the Moss school on Hangingroyd Road that I’ve been delving into over the last month! Truly amazing!. There was even a photo of him in his hunting gear. I emailed mossquire to see if he’d transcribed the 34 page document but no such luck. Think I’ll have to save that job for a rainy day – or a rainy week! (Task completed)

Ezra Butterwoth – husband of aunt of husband of my 1st cousin 3x removed!!!

Ezra Butterworth 1828-
husband of aunt of husband of 1st cousin 3x removed

Mary Gibson-Butterworth 1830-1918
Wife of Ezra Butterworth

Joshua Gibson 1806-1858
Father of Mary Gibson-Butterworth

Thomas Gibson 1828-1897
Son of Joshua Gibson

Thomas Henry Gibson 1869-1947
Son of Thomas Gibson

Amelia Whitham-Gibson 1869-1949
Wife of Thomas Henry Gibson

James Farrar Whitham 1837-1901
Father of Amelia Whitham-Gibson

WILLIAM WHITHAM 1792-
Father of James Farrar Whitham

ELIZABETH ANN WHITHAM-NUTTON-LEEMING 1840-1905 (of Lily Hall)
Daughter of WILLIAM WHITHAM

JOHN NUTTON 1862-1934
Son of ELIZABETH ANN WHITHAM-NUTTON-LEEMING

FLORENCE NUTTON-DENTON 1895-NaN
Daughter of JOHN NUTTON

Jack Dean Denton 1920-1995
Son of FLORENCE NUTTON-DENTON

Heather Jacqueline Denton
You are the daughter of Jack Dean Denton

Update on Ezra’s story

June 2020

From Ezra’s story an account of the life and times of Ezra Butterworth (1827-1898) as told by his daughter Grace (1863-1944) to her four children and recounted by them to his great-granddaughter Barbara Moss I knew that Ezra had become estranged from his son, Gibson, and that he was often afflicted by drink. However, it wasn’t until today that I did some more digging in the local newspapers and found several stories corroborating both his standing of high esteem within the local community and his drunken episodes. 17 October, 1890. Ezra Butterworth, farmer, Hipping was summoned for having his dog out without a muzzle. He sent his man servant to plead guilty.—P.S. Sutherland said that on Sunday afternoon last, about 2-30, he was on duty along with P.C. Copping near Blackshawhead, and there saw defendant’s dog on the highway without muzzle. Defendant and his man-servant were with it. It was a sporting dog.—The manservant admitted the accuracy of the sergeant’s evidence, but said they were only just crossing the road. They had been into a neighbour’s field to look at two young horses—The sergeant said they were nearly a mile from Hippings, and he saw the dog and the two men travel about 100 yards along the highroad. They then left the road and went across a grass field.—Fined 1 shilling and costs 9 shillings. On the other hand in 1884 he was deemed suitable as an overseer and in 1885 he was elected Liberal councillor for Stansfield, and in 1894 a parish councillor

From the journal:

In 1890 Ezra decided against the wishes of Mary and Grace to lease Hippins farm from the Savile estate, paying an advanced payment that would secure his tenancy for the next 25 years. (Is it just a coincidence that Ezra built his residence, Oak Villa, on Savile Road?) It stood on the hillside and was 75 acres in extent. He spent a great deal of money on improvements building a new barn and putting a new inside to the house. He bought from Ireland twelve Kerry cows and a bull and settled down to a very different way of life. They hired a couple to live in the cottage, the man to run the farm and his wife to help in the house.

While still living at the farm Ezra resumed railway work and his son Gibson agreed to assist on the farm, doing bookkeeping and managing the workers on the understanding that a remuneration of 70 pounds a year should be paid to him on the sale of farm stock. When the stock was sold Gibson inquired after the money that they had agreed upon but Ezra told him that his mother had taken all the proceeds. She had left Hippings two days after the sale, having previously told her husband that unless he promised to sign the pledge and abide by it she would not stay. Ezra’s drinking bouts could last two or three weeks at a time, the newspaper recorded. The following is evidence that Ezra’s drunkenness caused problems outside the household too. In the Burnley newspaper we read that on 20th May, 1882 Ezra Butterworth, a traveller from Hebden Bridge, was summoned for being drunk whilst charge a horse and conveyance in St. James’ Street, Burnley at eleven o’clock Thursday night, the 17th ult.—Fined 10s. He did not abide by his pledge to Mary and so two days after the sale she left and went to live with her newly married daughter and husband Elias. However, when Ezra died in December of 1898 it was discovered that he had revised his will and left everything to his wife, and his daughter, Grace, and her husband textile manufacturer Elias Barker and Gibson had been left nothing. So Gibson took out a court action to reclaim what he thought was owing to him. Gibson’s relationship with his parents had not been an easy one. At one time Gibson had been turned away from the home for disobeying his parents. “Grace did a lot of heavy work about the farm when her brother would not lift a finger to help her.” In February 1900, two years after his father’s death Gibson brought a court action against his mother, Mary, and his son-in law Elias Barker claiming wages that he had earned as his father’s ‘hired servant’ at the rate of 70 per year as agreed. The report of the court case spanned three columns in the paper and then, just as Grace was brought to testify the judge adjourned the court because the proceeding had taken up so much time. As I was searching for the next episode in the saga I found the following story covered comprehensively in the Todmorden newspaper:

DEATH BY CHAMBER POT

Can a tale be harrowing and comical at the same time? Is this story a candidate for the Darwin awards? The newspaper heading had it all: The Blackshaw Mystery – Threat with a loaded gun – Disgraceful and sickening behaviour. At the age of 71 Ezra was found in a pool of blood on his kitchen floor by the postman. With the assistance of a neighbouring farmer they two got Ezra settled in his bed but he died later that same evening. One of the witnesses at the inquest was John Whitaker a fustian cutter of Stubb, Mytholyroyd who had been staying with Ezra for the previous three weeks. One night another man joined them and, according to the newspaper report John reported “We all slept together.” Coroner: “Was it cold that night?” (Laughter) “No sir, I thought it very warm” (renewed laughter). We frequently stayed in bed together til 4 in the afternoon. I have persuaded him to stay in bed late telling him that it would save money.” About 10 days before his death the two had been drinking at the Blue Ball. On his way home Ezra fell down and John went back to the inn and the landlord’s son came to assist, and together they managed to get Ezra home, and settled him in bed. Some time during the night he fell out of bed onto the chamber pot, breaking it in two pieces and cutting himself somewhere behind. He stayed in bed for several days , John and his house cleaner bringing him a little food and drink, but eventually took up his loaded gun from the rack in the kitchen saying “I’ll shoot ’em all,” and John quickly left. A few days later he was found by the postman laying on his back on the living room floor, senseless, though still alive, undressed and without his stockings (!). The postman called for help from the farmer next door and together they got him up the stairs and in to bed. Dr Cairns from Hebden Bridge was called and described a 4 to 5 inch wound on the right thigh or buttock. He suggested that this, plus the exposure of being on the cold stone floor was the cause of death. Elias Barker, Ezra’s son-in-law was called as a witness. He had been summoned to the farm immediately the postman raised the alarm. He was asked if there was any money missing from the house, or any articles. No he responded. “Did you remove the chamber pot?” “Yes.” “What did it contain?” “I called it pure blood.” The court accepted that no foul play was involved.

As I returned into Hebden along the canal I stopped to take a photo of #1 Fountain Street which is the first house from the canal in a row of Victorian back-to-back houses.

1 Fountain Street

Annie Gibson Hart  (1866-1917) was living there in 1911. She was a grandchild of Thomas Gibson. Her parents were Thomas Gibson and Hannah Stott-Gibson. She married a fustian cutter, Cornelius Hart from Bolton. At the time of her marriage she was a fustian machinist and the newly weds were living with her parents at Old Gate. By 1901 they were living at Hebble End, childless. Hebble End was the area of Hebden Bridge that I first stayed in the summer I came by myself to research my ancestry. 1911 saw them still working in the fustian industry. Prior to his marriage Cornelius had lived and worked at Lower Lumb Mill (built 1802) with his parents and siblings. Lumb Mill School was founded in 1845 by the owners of the mill. In 1851 there was one school room, 20’ by 16’, with 34 girls and 17 boys, who were taught reading writing and arithmetic.  The children would have worked half time, with one group at school in the morning and another in the afternoon.  Somewhere in this locality the Sutcliffes opened a one-room factory school. This was because in 1845 the Factory Acts said that children had to spend a certain number of hours in education if they were to continue working in the mills. 34 girls and 17 boys were taught reading, writing and arithmetic at Lumb.Half timing ended only with the Fisher Act of 1917. The ruins of a 200-year-old cotton mill have been brought back to life, thanks to a new hydro-electricity scheme that starts generating electricity today. The hydro scheme uses the original weir and water channels that supplied the industrial-revolution-era mill when it was first built in 1802, and will produce enough clean electricity to power around 40 homes and save 60 tonnes of CO2 per year from going into the atmosphere. The 450,000 project is the brainchild of Bede and Jane Mullen, who have lived by the ruins of Lower Lumb mill in Hebden Bridge for over 30 years. My photos of Lower Lumb Mill come from a hike I took in April.