brother-in-law of my 1st cousin 3x removed

Son of Thomas and Hannah Gibson. Thomas was a butcher on Bridge Lanes, Hebden Bridge and had also lived at Winters (see post). As was common at that time their first son was given Hannah’s maiden name, Stott as his Christian name. He was baptised on May 6, 1855 at the parish church in Hebden bridge. 8 siblings were to follow. 1861 sees the family living in Bridgegate, the house before the White Lion on the census route. By 1871 the family have moved to Old Gate and while his dad continued to run the butcher’s shop Stott has now joined the vast numbers of fustian cutters employed in the town.

On September 24, at the age of 19 Stott married Sarah Ellen Thomas at Halifax minster. Only her mother is named and on her marriage certificate there is a blank space for her father. If her father had been deceased he would have been named and then ‘deceased’ added. Stott and Sarah had 10 children. A month after their marriage they had a son who was baptised in October but died the following month. He’s buried at St James’s.

Two years after their marriage Stott gets caught up in a fight that appears to have been sparked by rivalry between the Heptonstall and the Hebden Bridge brass bands!

Todmorden & District News – Friday 29 September 1876

DISCORD AMONGST MUSICIANS —UTTLEY V. SUTCLIFFE—Mr. Craven appeared for plaintiff, and Mr. Ashworth (Rochdale) far defendant. Mr. Craven in opening the case said the matter arose out of an affray between the members of two local bands.- His Honor: Two bands of music ?—Mr. Craven: Yes, but on this occasion not of a very  harmonious character—Mr. Ashworth: There was too much drumming for much harmony. (Laughter).— Mr. Craven, continuing, said that on  the 22nd July certain parties connected with the Heptonstall and Hebden-bridge brass bands were at the Shoulder of Mutton inn, and a dispute arose about the musical abilities of each band. On leaving the Shoulder Mutton Inn a fracas took place amongst some of them. Soon after this the defendant got hold of his client, and threw him a distance of four or five yards, the result of which was that his ankle was dislocated; whilst on  the ground the defendant got upon him and struck him in the face. His client claimed  6.11s.6d damages; he was stone mason, and was away from work two weeks; his wages were 32s a week; he paid 7s 6d. for medical assistance, and claimed 3 pounds for the pain and suffering which he had undergone. –

 Plaintiff on being examined said: I was at the Shoulder of Mutton Inn on the night of the  22nd of July; I had  one glass of beer there, and I had previously had two glasses of porter and a bottle of cider during the day. When I left the Shoulder Mutton Inn I was making my way home, and went over the Old bridge with James Simpson and Thos. Sutcliffe, whom I accompanied to Buttress Bottom. I did not see the defendant; there were a great number of people about. The Heptonstall band had been to a  demonstration at Todmorden; there was  a majority of the band at the Shoulder  of Mutton Inn. I had been in company with a man of the name of Stott Gibson, and when I got to Buttress-bottom I saw him on the door-step of his house, and someone was bothering him, and I was going to protect him when the defendant got hold of me  by the collar and threw me a distance of four five yards to the ground; he then got on top of me, and gave pair of black eyes; he hit me with his fist when I was down, and there were three or four persons kicking me at the same time.I never saw the defendant after. I went home  by  the roadside as best I could, and on the morning following I called in a doctor, who said the ankle was put out.  I was kept sway from work two weeks in consequence of that injury. I paid my doctor 7s 6d.  I had very much pain during the time of my illness. -I strictly followed out the  doctor’s orders. I can swear that defendant was the man who threw me.—

 By Mr. Ashworth; I had been at the Shoulder of Mutton about twenty minutes; I had one glass there. I had been at the Hole-in-the-wall and the Swan Inn before going there;

I had  two glasses of porter and a bottle of cider. I went work that day at half past seven, and worked til 12 o’clock  during which time I never tasted intoxicating drink. Stott Gibson had been with me at the Hole-in-the-wall and the Swan Inn, and he  to went to the Shoulder of Mutton with me. He  was stirred in drink at the  last-named place, but not drunk. I play in  Hebden Bridge band; Stott Gibson also plays in the same band. The defendant is not a musician that I am aware of; he lives at  Nutclough.  When the Heptonstall band came up my friend did not make any remark that I heard; he did not say  he would have  a “b—row.” He left the public house when I did. There was a row outside, which took place  on the other side of the  bridge. It was not one continuous fight from the Shoulder Mutton to the  bottom of Buttress. Within 5 or ten minutes after that the row between the defendant and myself began.  I was going to where the row was taking place. I did not hear defendant complain  of someone striking him; I had  not struck him. We  were both on the  ground together. He threw me four or five yards, and followed close upon me; I never struck or offered  to strike anybody. I got home without any assistance a  little after 11 o’clock. I took no part to the general scuffle.  The scuffle was between the members of the Heptonstall and the members  of the  Hebden-bridge bands; I am a  member of the  latter, and so is Stott Gibson, but I took no part the scuffle. “Straight-up” was having a  row with Stott Gibson. I attended a brass band contest at Todmorden on the following Saturday, but I was not able to work; I went to the contest in a spring cart.  I was  never drunk during the time of my illness.  I did not throw on to  any club.—By Mr. Craven: I went to try to work on the Monday following, but I could not stand at the bench. I received no additional Injury through attending the contest.—Thomas Naylor was called in supporting the plaintiff’s evidence, and spoke to seeing the parties at the Shoulder Mutton Inn, and afterwards seeing Stott Gibson home; there were lots of scufflings going on but he could not swear to the assault committed upon the plaintiff as he  did not recognise either  of the parties in the  general scuffle. -Mary Hannah Southwell said: I know Thomas Uttley; I saw him  on the night of 22nd  of July at the  bottom of Buttress between half past 10 and 11 o’lock.there were a good many people about. I saw a young man take hold of Uttley and throw him sideways; I did not see him again that night. I did not know who it was that there him – should I know him if i saw him again; I cannot swear that it was the defendant. I knocked down  accidentally in the affray. –

By Mr Ashworth: There was a good deal of jostling and fitting going on; they did not seem to be behaving like Christians to one another. – Jonathan Whitely said: I was at sale on the Monday following the affray, and defendant was there. I called him one side and asked him about it, and he said he had thrown Uttley down, but Uttley struck him first. I told him what in jury Uttley had sustained and he expressed sorrow. – This being the plaintiff’s case Mr Ashworth addressed the court for the efense, after which he called upon the defendant Richard Sutcliffe, who said: On 22nd of July I was at the shoulder of MuttonInn, and that day there had been a demonstration at Todmorden where the Heptonstall band had been engaged. . I went to the Shoulder of Mutton Inn at 10 o’clock. I was quite sober. The plaintiff Thomas Uttley was there, and appeared to be sober.I did not see Uttley leave the house. I saw him near Stott Gibson’s house: he was then rushing towards Gibson and I stopped him and was going to tell him that Gibson’s wife was in charge of him when he turned round and struck me in the chest. I then got hold of him and we both went to the ground together. No-one separated us. I never was on top of him. I left him at the end of Royd Terrace.

I saw Whitely on the Monday following and he told me of Uttley’s in juries but I did n to express my sorrow. I told him that Uttley struck me in the breast and then got hold of him. I did not know that he was hurt until whitely told me. Uttley struck as hard as he could.  –

By Mr Craven: I got up and left him lying on the ground. I did not wait to see whether he got up or not – I was not aware that I had injured him. Stott Gibson shouted the Heptonstall band whilst playing. (?) I am n to a member of the Heptonstall band but my sympathies are with that band. I stopped Uttley to tell him who it was who was getting Gibson into the house. The blow was intentionally given to me; I did not strike to to my recollection whilst on the ground. – 

William Sutcliffe corroborated defendant’s evidence as to the plaintiff striking first. Mr Ashworth intimated that he had other witnesses to call if his Honor was not  satisfied. His Honor said he did. Not think the plaintiff had any right of action against the defendant, and ordered a nonsuit. 

The family were now, 1881 living at Buttress Bottom, Hebden Bridge and in the 1891, 1901 and 1911 census they are #6 Buttress Brink.

Sarah died in 1917 and so far the only Stott Gibson’s death record I can find is in Conway, Wales in 1925 but that seems unlikely. I did, however manage to locate photos of Stott’s children from a relative on Ancestry.com

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Stott’s son, Arthur, was killed in WW l in 1916 the day after his brother, William was killed. 8 months later their brother Ben was also killed. Today I was invited to go to see the new Oscar nominated movie ‘1917’ but I declined.

Abraham Moss 

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. 

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.

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 on which land the town hall was subsequently built.

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.

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 not built until 1848-1852 and all but one house retain their original glazing

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.

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.

 

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

By 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.

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, but 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 Mr. Moss laid at the bottom of a flight of dozen 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 fact 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 slippery. 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 the 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 of his death. For a 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 his own story, he along with the late Mr. B. 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.

UPDATE

I ws contacted by several people who had lived at Brooklyn and the current residents offered to show me round. So in December, my daughter Rachel who was visiting me from California, spent a wonderful couple of hours inside Abraham’s former home. It was a magical experience to sit in the same room and look out from the window overlooking the town, just as Abraham and his family would have done. Many thanks.

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. 

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. 

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.

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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.

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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.”

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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. 

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.

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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. 

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.

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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).

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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.

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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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.

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.

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. 

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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!

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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. 

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. 

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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!

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)

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.

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.

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