From the Merthyr Express 110 years ago today (31 July 1909)….
The Curious Case of the Sculptor and the Hose Pipe
Month: July 2019
Merthyr Memories: Memories of Dowlais – part 2
by Sarnws
Ivor Street in particular had a reputation for being generous to beggars, who in those days would just walk up the middle of the road, often silent, cap in hand, and the children would run in to tell their mothers, who in turn would spare a few coppers.
This was in the thirties. By now we had moved from “Merthyr” which generally describes Merthyr itself, Dowlais, Penydarren, Heolgerrig, Pant, Georgetown Twynyrodyn etc. One day I dashed in from the street, quite excited, to tell my mother that there was a beggar, cap in hand, walking down the middle of the road just chanting “Ho Hum, Ho Hum” repetitively. She was as excited as I was and in turn dashed out to put something in his hat. It was a link with “home”, for he was well known to her.
I remember that beggars were quite a common sight. My father in the very early nineteen hundreds, before going to work as an apprentice blacksmith, worked in Toomeys. He was paying in to the bank one day when a beggar who used to push himself around, mounted on a small flat trolley with the aid if two short sticks, was paying in. When he reached the counter, the clerk checking in not an insignificant amount asked if he had had a good day. The reply was, “Average”.
On a few occasions at about 8.30 pm on a Saturday there would be a message from one of the houses in Pontsarn or Pontsicill, to the effect that some friends had dropped in so would Mr. Toomey send up the brace of pheasants he had hanging. My father would be sent on the errand, having been given two-pence for the tram, and with the kind instruction that he needn’t come back.
Until the day she died, sadly quite young, if someone asked my mother when making her way to the train for her weekly visit, where she was going, the reply was always the same, “Home for the day”.
I remember my father, when on a visit to Merthyr when Grandparents and Aunts and Uncles were still there, showing me the Trevithick memorial in Pontmorlais, and being brought up with knowledge of the social and industrial heritage of “Merthyr” and its contribution to the world.
Is it possible when the light is just right that a mirage of the Coal Arch can be seen?
Does the glow from the Bessemer converter still light the night sky?
When I retired, thirty years ago I took the elderly aunt of a colleague to lunch in the Teapot Cafe at the end of the Station Arcade, which was the main exit from Brunel’s station. A lady came in with her husband, nodded to me and smiled. She turned to her husband and I could see her say, ”I know that gentleman”. I could not place her, and just nodded as we left.
A little while later I saw her again in the company of friends or family one of whom I knew. I was drawn into their company. The lady had been living on Orpington as teacher and then head teacher for thirty-five years, so had not encountered me in that time. It transpired that she remembered me from Dowlais school, fifty years before.
My son has a silver pocket watch and chain, given to me by my uncle, of the same christian name just before he died. It was bequeathed to him by an 
uncle, again of the same name. His aunt had it serviced for him by the clockmaker half way up the arcade. That must have been about 1920.
As you entered that clockmaker’s premises, facing you was a huge grandfather clock. Integral with the pendulum was a cylinder of mercury. This expanded and contracted with temperature change, compensating for the temperature variation in the length of the pendulum rod, seemingly so simple a concept, but how brilliant.
I was telling a colleague, who had been brought up in Dowlais, but previously unknown to me, that I could remember standing under the railway bridge at the end of Station Road, sheltering from the rain, and watching the Fish and Chip shop opposite, in Victoria Street I think, burning down. He turned and said that he had been there too. That had happened, I think, in the winter of 38/39. Thirty-five years or so before.
I have tooted the car horn many times on Johnny Owen, out for his morning run. I always got a wave of the hand in return. What a number of boxers and other sportspeople Merthyr has produced. The last years of my working life were in Merthyr, and being steeped in its history by my parents, it was interesting to encounter family names which were familiar to me, particularly the Spanish ones, as I was familiar with their family histories to some extent.
My parents are buried in Pant Cemetery, as are Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, Cousins and more. Whenever I visit I cannot but drive around Dowlais, now much changed, but a place to which I am still drawn.
Except for one year, October ‘38 to September ‘39, when I attended Dowlais Junior School, and was a patient for three months in the childrens’ hospital which occupied the original Sandbrook House, I have not lived in Merthyr since I was a baby. When I was discharged from Sandbrook House I had been indoors for nearly the whole of my stay and insisted on riding up as far as the Hollybush Hotel on the open top deck of the tram. The era of the tram ended very shortly afterwards.
I seem to have read or heard somewhere that nature has implanted within you a sacred and indissoluble attachment to the place of your birth and infant nurture, perhaps Tydfil’s martyrdom has created this aura about Merthyr which evokes such hiraeth.
Merthyr Memories: Memories of Dowlais – part 1
by “Sarnws”
If only I could sleep just for one night, in winter, in the front bedroom of the house which now stands where my grandfather’s did, in Church Row in Dowlais, nearly on the corner of Ivor Street, would I in that early morning reverie, half awake and half asleep, hear the frost hardened paving stones ringing with the footsteps of hundreds and hundreds of men making their way to the Ivor Works and the trains taking them over Dowlais Top to the mines and coke ovens beyond?
Are too, the ghosts of women scurrying from the Tip Station along Station Road and Church Row, past the Bonevitch’s shop, to Dowlais Market, with a basket of merchandise in the crook of each elbow to be seen?
In those days when times were hard, “Daddy Thorn”, as he was known to the local children would come out of retirement as a sugar puller, and make a walking stick of “rock” for a birthday present. This fuelled our activities as roller skating was a popular pastime, and Church Row was surfaced and as smooth as silk. I can now admit to stealing grease from the axle boxes of the goods wagons parked opposite the Stables by the market for my roller skate wheels, as the statute of limitations applies, hopefully.
You could buy spare roller skate wheels from Atkins the ironmonger down the hill from the Co-op, and I often went there to buy “carbide” for my grandfather’s flame lamp.
Dowlais Library was, still is I think, just by the site of the Co-op, and even though I did not appreciate it at the time, was told later that the librarian was so addicted to snuff that every book was so scented.
I would go to the Co-op to fetch pipe tobacco for my grandfather, which came in a foil sealed tin. I still remember the aroma as the foil was peeled back. One of the staff on the provision counter was a Mr. Sheen, always in immaculate whites. To see him boning out a side of bacon was a demonstration of skill. In those days bacon was not laid out ready, but cut on demand. If it ran out you would patiently wait and look on as the Provisions hand fetched and boned another side.
If the “American Cheese” came to an end the provision hand would appear embracing a barrel shaped cheese weighing fifty-six pounds, and cut it up with the wire cheese cutter. Everyone waited, with no complaints.
At the end of Mary Ann Street there stood a bakery which in summer would be open to the world, where real bread was baked.
In Dowlais market the stall always doing a roaring trade was the faggots and peas stall. Traditionally most people would add a sprinkling of vinegar, probably to cut the richness of the faggots.
One regular vendor was the man selling corn ointment, who, to demonstrate the effectiveness of his treatment would stamp his highly polished black boots on the flagstones.
I was told of one old lady, a self appointed arbiter of the quality of poultry sold in the market, who never bought a bird, but would go from stall to stall prodding the breasts of the chicken on show with a hatpin. She would then pronounce on the quality of the merchandise.
An older colleague could remember the matriarch of a rather rough and ready family who on pay day would take the husband’s pay, go down to the market, and buy and don a new apron. She would then gather up the hem to form a shopping bag, and do the weekly shop . When the family had consumed her purchases, they went hungry ‘till the next pay day.
If the term “Disposable Income” had been common parlance then it would have had no relevance for the majority who survived from pay day to pay day.
Dowlais in the 1930’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm
To be continued…….
Memories of an Octogenarian
From the Merthyr Express 110 years ago today (24 July 1909):
Nurses Wanted
From the Aberdare Leader 100 years ago today (21 July 1919):
Merthyr’s Lost Landmarks: The Triangle, Pentrebach
One of Merthyr’s most sorely missed landmarks is undoubtedly the Triangle in Pentrebach.
The Pentrebach Triangle was a planned settlement of fifty-four houses constructed in the 1830s and 1840s, in association with the development of the Pentrebach Forge by the Hill family of Plymouth Ironworks. It comprised four rows of double-fronted terraced houses, two of them facing each other across Church Street (which was part of the Merthyr – Cardiff turnpike road to c.1840 when a new alignment was laid out to the west), and two rows enclosing a triangular space to the west of Church Street. The houses had two rooms and a pantry on the ground floor, and two rooms above, accessed by half-spiral stone stairs built into the very thick party walls between alternate pairs.
By 1813 there was already a row of terraced housing, Long Row, to the east of Church Street, and a building on the east side of Church Street itself, possibly an alehouse which was later converted to four houses.
Further building of Triangle probably began in the late 1830s, with two stages of six houses each on the east side of Church Street, attached to the south end of the alehouse building. The first seven houses of the south row (from the east end) of the Triangle probably also date from this period. The later houses used greyish-yellow bricks for window arches and chimneys.
All were built by 1851. At first there were no back doors, and all had small enclosures at the front, some of which contained sheds for coal. Water came from a pump and trough in the centre of the triangle, and a block of four privies was constructed behind the south-west corner. Later many of the houses acquired single-storey rear extensions.
The houses were Listed Grade 2 in February 1975, but had already been purchased by Merthyr Council and earmarked for clearance. Local civic and heritage groups fought to save them, and the Civic Society even produced a scheme showing that they could be renovated for less than the cost of new housing, and at the same time provide 12.5% more floor space than the basic basic new-build design of the day.
All the efforts to save them were in vain however, and The Triangle was demolished on 12 December 1977, and the whole site and all related landscape features have been obliterated by the building of large industrial units.
The demolition of the Triangle is one of the most grievous losses to Merthyr’s Heritage. It beggars belief that the powers that be sanctioned its destruction, knowing how important and unique it was, and in the face of such public opposition….but should we be surprised?
A Mystery Football team
Following on from yesterday’s post, here’s a bit of a mystery.
Alan Jones and David Watkins are currently researching Merthyr Tydfil A.F.C., and they have unearthed this photograph.
Can anyone shed any light on it?
The inscription on the football is all but illegible, but I have blown the photo up as best I can.
If anyone can help identify the team, please let me know and I will pass the information on to Alan and David.
Thanks
The Jones Boys
by Trev Jones
I’m Trev Jones from Birmingham, UK and now living in Wales. Together with my wife Debbie, we spent many years researching my Jones genealogy.
This is the story of my Grandfather, his four brothers from Penyard, Merthyr Tydfil and their sons who played professional football from 1918 to 1970. One family who sent player after player to grace the teams of the football league for over 50 years. Even today, the family have members still involved in the game.
Will John (Shoni) Jones:
The eldest of 5 brothers, my Grandfather. No more than an average player, but this was the beginning and no one was to know that his brothers would go on to achieve greater things at football. Shoni turned out for Aberdare and Ton Pentre when these teams were part of the football league.
He is pictured here with Ton Pentre from the 1921/22 season when they were beaten in the Welsh cup final by Cardiff.
Ivor Jones:
Ivor began to show the same skills as his elder brother Shoni. He was signed to Merthyr Tydfil FC and it wasn’t long before he was on his way to Swansea Town. From there his talents were spotted by West Bromwich Albion where he transferred in 1921.
He was the first of the family to gain international recognition, being selected to play for Wales 10 times during his career.
Emlyn Jones:
Signed for Merthyr Town in 1933. After six weeks he was transferred to Everton, playing alongside the likes of Dixie Dean. Moved on to Southend, playing over 500 games and becoming a firm favourite with the fans. Finished his career at Barrow after which he continued playing amateur football with Shirley Town in Birmingham.
Brynmor Jones:
Bryn started his career at Merthyr Town but soon moved over to Ireland playing with Glenavon. On his return to Wales, he played for Aberaman where he was quickly signed up by Wolverhampton Wanderers. A real favourite with the Molineaux crowd who nearly rioted when he was transferred for a record £14,000 in August 1938 to Arsenal. It was front page news, knocking talk of the impending world war that was facing the UK.
Bryn was selected to play for Wales no less than 17 times. He was in the side at Cardiff that beat England 4-2 in the 1930’s. He scored that day, along with another Merthyr lad, Dai Astley.
Bertrand Jones:
Aston Villa were after the talented Bert. However, with the outbreak of World War 2, Bert was sent to Burma with the South Wales Borderers. Unfortunately, he never returned, being killed in action against the Japanese.
Ken Jones:
Ken is the son of Emlyn. He played professionally at Swansea, Southend and Gravesend, but injury put him out of the game. He wasn’t finished with the game though, and became a sports journalist with the Daily Mirror. Following on from there he became sports writer at the Sunday Mirror and then the Independent.
Has written many books on sport including boxing and of course football.
Cliff Jones:
Perhaps the most famous of the Joneses. Signed to Swansea Town in the early 1950’s, Cliff was a wizard of the wing. In 1958 he was transferred to Tottenham Hotspur for another record fee, this time £35,000. He became a regular member of the Spurs first team, partnering Jimmy Greaves. The 60’s were known as the glory glory days at Tottenham, where the side were unbeatable. He was part of the double winning team of 1961 and 1962, and in the side that won the first European cup winners cup in England. Cliff was capped 58 times for Wales and collected three F.A. cup winners medals and the European cup winners medal. In 1970, after over 10 years at Spurs, he signed for Fulham where he retired from the game. He went on to teaching P.E.
Bryn Jones:
The elder brother of Cliff. He started his career as a forward but settled down to become a resolute defender. After playing at Swansea then Bournmouth he went on to captain Watford where he finished his playing career. Bill McGarry, the manager at Bournmouth says, “No player ever gave more for me, and he’s still the best full back I ever managed.”
Ivor Jones:
The youngest son of Shoni. This is my father seen here 2nd from the right back row with the England Schoolboys team at Ninian Park Cardiff in 1939. He was considered to be a full international of the future but with the war intervening and being of a somewhat shy nature declined to take up the sport as a professional.
To read the original article, please click the following link. http://joneshistory.com/the-jones-boys/
Pilgrimage to Cwm-y-Glo
Eighty years ago today, on 13 July 1939, a special service was held in the ruins of Cwm-y-Glo Chapel to mark the 300th anniversary of Non-conformity in Wales. The Merthyr Express, dated 15 July 1939, reported the service, and is transcribed below.
PILGRIMAGE TO CWM-Y-GLO
Welsh Independents’ Service in Chapel Ruins
Delegates from 55 churches attached to the North Glamorgan Association of Independents on Thursday made a pilgrimage to the ruins of Cwm-y-Glo Chapel, the secret worshipping place of Welsh Dissenters of the 17th Century.
The pilgrimage was part of the celebration of the 300th anniversary of Non-conformity in Wales, and the pilgrimage coincided with the quarterly meeting of the North Glamorgan Association at Ynysgau Congregational Church.
An impressive service was conducted around the ruins of the historic chapel and was attended by about 300 people.
Lying in a secluded spot on the mountainside overlooking the Borough, Cwm-y-Glo was built in 1669 by the Dissenters who had previously held their meetings at Blaencanaid Farm nearby. Blaencanaid became liable to raids by Government spies and soldiers, and for 20 years Cwm-y-Glo was used as a secret worshipping place until 1689 when the Toleration Act gave religious freedom to all Non-conformists.
Services were continued for many years afterwards until the members formed themselves into two groups – one going to Cefn Coed and the other to Ynysgau Chapel.
At the service at Cwm-y-Glo on Thursday an address was given by the Rev J T Rogers, pastor of Zoar Welsh Congregational Church, Merthyr, on “The Struggles of the Dissenters in the Merthyr area and the history of their worshipping places”. Mr Thomas Edwards of Edwardsville, president of the North Glamorgan Association, presided and prayer was offered by the Rev Watkin Jones.
Principal John Morgan Jones of the Bangor Independent College proposed a vote of thanks to the Rev J T Rogers and Mr W T Owen, Director of Education, seconded. The service concluded with the Benediction given by the Rev Cyril Bowen, Troedyrhiw.
ASSOCIATIONS CONFERENCE
A conference was held at Ynysgau Chapel in the morning, when Mr Thos. Edwards presided. Reports of the activities of the association during the past quarter were given by the Rev J T Rogers, secretary of the association.
The Rev H P Hughes, Cwmbach, was elected missionary secretary for the association and the Rev Glannant Jones, Aberdare, was appointed secretary of the Peace Committee.
Following the conference a service was held when the preacher was the Rev J R Salmon, Pontlottyn. Others who took part in the service were the Rev W Walters, Abernant; the Revs D C Jenkins, W Morse and W R Davies.
During the conference the Rev J T Rogers, who has been the association’s secretary for the past 12 years, was presented with a typewriter in recognition of his services. The presentation was made by Mr J Lewis, Aberdare, and Mr Rogers suitably responded.
A public meeting was held in the evening when the mayor, Mr Isaac Edwards, J.P. presided. The Rev T Glyndwr Jones, Dowlais, took the devotions, and addresses were given by Mr R Hopkin Morris, M.A., Director of the West Regional BBC Station, Cardiff, and Principal J Morgan Jones M.A.
Wanted!!!
Hello everyone.
This is my bi-annual appeal to all budding historians out there – please send in your articles.
As you know I am always looking for fresh ideas for this blog, so if anyone feels they would like to contribute a piece – no matter how short, any submissions will be gratefully received.
Everyone is welcome to contribute – whether you are an established historian or someone with a passion for local history who has never written something before.
Please send me your articles – help keep the blog fresh.
Thank you