From the Evening Express 110 years ago today (29 August 1910)….
Month: August 2020
Merthyr’s Footballers of the Past
The Morlais Brook – part 2
by Clive Thomas
From here in pre-industrial times the brook continued in its efforts to cut deeply into the country rock, passing Cae Racca, the fields of the Hafod Farm and down into Cwm Rhyd y bedd. Unfortunately with the construction of the new Ivor Works in 1839, this area became the tipping ground of the thousands of tons of waste produced by the furnaces, forges and rolling mills. Over the next century the whole form of the land became radically altered with tip and railway embankment obscuring its course. It eventually emerged into ‘The Cwm’, as a poor remnant of its former self, passing in the mid-nineteenth century the Dowlais Old Brewery and Gellifaelog House on its way down to Gellifaelog Bridge. This had been built in the second half of the eighteenth century to carry the Abernant to Rhyd-y-blew turnpike Road and would eventually become the location which every local would know as ‘The Bont’.
A little below here, it had its junction with Nant Dowlais on the banks of which the first Dowlais furnace had been constructed in 1759. Two centuries later, in the 1960’s with the building of the Heads of the Valleys Road and the general landscaping of the 1980’s the stream’s way through the ‘Cwm’ was again changed quite comprehensively, although shrub and tree planting rendered the valley more aesthetically pleasing. Unfortunately, it is only the archive map or faint ancient photographs which now help inform us of its rich and varied history.
Before being confined to its anonymous, culverted bed, the brook’s surface course from The Bont was once again encroached upon by massive tipping from the Dowlais Ironworks. On the opposite bank, once the fields of Gellifaelog and Gwaunfarren Farms, what was to become Penydarren High Street would be established. This ribbon development of dwellings, shops and places of worship was constructed above the steep valley side here and would eventually form a fundamental link between the growing settlements of Merthyr Tydfil and Dowlais. As early as 1811 though, I.G. Wood’ s print of the Penydarren Ironworks shows our mountain cataract to be already much altered, confined and despoiled by the growth of that iron manufactory. Today, the location is completely transformed from the area of desolation we knew in the 1960’s and ‘70’s. It is landscaped, green and partly wooded but it is a great pity the planners could not have given it a more inspirational name than Newlands Park.
Below the site of the works its course altered a little again and helped define that spur of high ground the Romans had chosen, probably in the early second century AD as the site for one of their forts. I am sure these ancient invaders would have had no inkling of the iniquities that men of later centuries would perpetrate on the stream and landscape hereabouts. Today, Nant Morlais reveals itself only briefly to the rear of the Theatre Royal and Trevithick memorial before disappearing at Pontmorlais, the location of another of those early turnpike bridges.
Hidden behind the buildings of the town’s Upper High Street there is one final reminder of the stream’s rural and unsullied past. Mill Lane, more recently the rather secret location of Mr. Fred Bray’s sweet factory, is the site of a water mill where our agricultural forefathers ground the corn grown in the fields of the local farms.
Whilst the old buildings and general dereliction which not so long ago framed the stream’s last few hundred metres have long disappeared and been replaced by car parking and civic buildings, a large portion of Abermorlais Tip remains to mark the point where the waters of Nant Morlais coalesce with those of the parent Taf. Although partly confined to a subterranean existence, through the more recent efforts of Man, ‘The Stinky’ has been able to rid itself of the foul and fetid mantle of its past.
The Morlais Brook – part 1
by Clive Thomas
It was not until September 1968 that I first became acquainted with ‘The Stinky’, the name given to the Morlais Brook by past generations of children and adults who lived along its banks.
Not being a Merthyr boy I was really unaware of its existence, let alone details of its course and history. Where I lived in Troedyrhiw we had the River Taf across the fields of Bill Jones’ farm and our only brook was an old Hill’s Plymouth Collieries’ watercourse which drained numerous disused mountainside coal levels. Despite its origins, the water was clear and clean, drinkable, dammed in the summer holidays, paddled and bathed in. When bored or just at a loose end we raced empty Bondman tobacco tins along its course, running to keep up with the flow and ensure that our own particular tin wasn’t held up by a fallen branch or trapped in an inconvenient eddy. On first encounter I couldn’t imagine any of those activities taking place along ‘The Stinky’ and my initial observations confirmed that its local name was not in any way exaggerated. Indeed, the name appropriately characterised some of its more sinister and less praiseworthy qualities.
The stretch I first got to know was, what a student of physical geography would term, the stream’s ‘Old Age’, that is the portion towards the end of its life. Indeed, one might say at its very death, for union with the parent Taf was imminent and in 1968 the confluence of the two was observable, not as now concealed beneath a highway and pedestrian pathway. To the south of the stream were some of the streets and courtways of the town, many of which were derelict and already marked as candidates for slum clearance. Within two or three years these would be swept away. Rising up from its northern bank was the huge tip of waste produced over a century earlier by the Penydarren Ironworks, its industrial waste concealed for the most part by surprisingly lush vegetation. The British Tip, as it was sometimes known, took its name from the British and Foreign Bible Society, founders of the academy which graced its summit. On its plateau top was a once grand construction, a building of a century’s age but which in many respects had seen better times. Abermorlais, the school’s official name, was most appropriate, as it proclaimed its location, at the union of Taf and Nant Morlais. Unfortunately, there was to be seen no evidence in the stream here of a course well run, more confirmation of ill use, where Sixties’ waste and detritus continued to be added to over a century’s massive abuse. A sad end indeed to what no doubt had once been in pre-industrial times a clear and unspoilt mountain stream.
Perhaps though, to gain a more comprehensive appreciation of the stream’s course, it is probably better to follow the guidance of another Thomas, and “begin at the beginning”.
Nant Morlais forms from numerous small tributaries on the slopes of Twynau Gwynion and Cefnyr Ystrad on the 560 metre contour above Pantysgallog and Dowlais. In a distance of seven and a half kilometres it descends 440 metres to its confluence with the Taf. It’s not easy walking country with the gently dipping beds of Millstone grit overlying the Carboniferous Limestone. The surface is rough with ankle breaking rocks and many sink holes to topple into. Among many, but by far the largest of these is Pwll Morlais, a deep and supreme example of what happens where the underlying Limestone has been eroded and the grit collapses into the void. Depending on the season this can be a steep sided, empty peat banked hole or after heavy rain, full to overflowing with a brew of brown froth. The song of the skylark can be enjoyed here on a fine summer day but it is also a solitary place, disconcerting or eerie even, when mist or low cloud descends and the lone walker is surprised by the frantic cry of a disturbed snipe.
On a clear day the view to the south is the trough of the Taf Valley. Always viewed into the sun so never really clear, with only silhouettes, shadows and reflections to give a hint of detail. One wonders how different it would have looked when all of the works below would have been at their height?
From Pwll Morlais, the stream is called Tor-Gwyn by the Ordnance Survey, until its junction with another parallel tributary, and thereafter it becomes Nant Morlais proper. The stream’s descent is gentle to begin with over the hard resistant gritstone. It is along this stretch that there is much evidence of the importance placed on the brook as a source of water power for the rapidly growing Dowlais Works during the early part of the nineteenth century. There are still the remains of sluices and numerous places where the course has been altered, or feeders led its water off to be stored in numerous hillside reservoirs.
Where one of these diversions fed the extensive but now dry Pitwellt Pond above Pengarnddu, the Brook leaves the Millstone Grit and begins to cut a deep gorge into the softer Coal Measure rocks. From here there is more urgency in its flow, its course becomes narrower and more confined. At several locations it caused railway builders of the past to pause and consider the inconvenience of its course which would necessitate the construction of embankments and small bridges. The line which took limestone to the ironworks at Rhymney crossed hereabouts, as did the Brecon and Merthyr Railway on its way north over the Beacons and the London and North Western on its descent into Merthyr Tydfil via the ‘Miler’ or Morlais Tunnel.
More significantly however, it is within this section of the stream that geologists have been able to discover some of the secrets of the South Wales Coalfield and probably many hundreds of school pupils, university students, and local amateur geologists will have benefitted from the instruction of teachers like Ron Gethin, Tom Sharpe or John Perkins. Like myself on many occasions I am sure, they have stumbled down its steep banks into the course of the stream below Blaen Morlais Farm in search of Gastriocerassubcranatum or Gastriocerascancellatum . Not valuable minerals these, but the important fossils which would indicate the location of one or other of the marine bands which were significant in determining the sequence of sedimentation of the rocks generally, and the coal seams in particular.
To be continued…..
I remember that….
In the start of what I hope to be a new series, I have made a list of five things….places, occasions, feelings etc. in Merthyr that I remember from my childhood (I have mentioned several other memories such as hot chocolate in Ferrari’s Café in Dowlais – undoubtedly the best memory elsewhere).
- The strange multicoloured polygonal playing frame in the precinct. Whatever happened to that?
- Queuing as far as Burtons to go and see the first Star Wars film at the Scala (Temperance Hall)…..I was only 8 at the time, and I made my aunty take me to see it six times – I don’t think she ever forgave me.
- In connection to the above, collecting the plastic Star Wars figures. I remember buying them from a shop in the High Street called ‘Cards and Gifts’ (or something like that) – if I remember correctly one of the few places you could get them, and then being totally bereft when the building burnt down. My cousin and I would play for hours with the figures, re-arranging all of my parents’ house plants into various jungle ‘scenes’.
- Spending hours playing on the old coal-tips in Abercanaid (by this time grass-covered), and being traumatised when the powers that be took them away (not to mention my grandfather’s garden – a fact he bemoaned until his dying day), to build the extension to the Hoover Factory, and new road into Abercanaid.
- Being told never to use the subway under the road in Caedraw…..but being daring, and doing it anyway with the other local children, and being scared to death.
Now it’s your turn. What do you remember from your childhood?
Let’s try to make this a successful feature – send me an e-mail at merthyr.history@gmail.com and share your five Merthyr-related childhood memories.
V.J. Day – a Contemporary Account
by Laura Bray (née Bevan)
Following on from the account of V.E. Day from Glyn Bevan’s diary which appeared on this blog in May (http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=4691), to mark the 75th anniversary of V.J. Day, here is an account of the days leading up to V.J. Day and the day itself from Glyn’s diary.
13th August
We put up all our flags and streamers yesterday and have listened to every news today to hear the official announcement of the end of the war. None of us have much doubt about it although it is believed that the Japs in Burma may fight on whether Japan capitulates or not. Rumours all day about peace and premature celebrations all over the U.S., Canada and Australia. Stayed round the supper table talking for ages and then washed up. Continued talking in the drawing room until 01.00.
14th August
All up rather late. Decided to go to Tintern and Symonds Yat before dinner. Came on through the Forest of Dean (where a red squirrel crossed the road) to Monmouth, and then went on down the lovely Wye Valley to Tintern. Unfortunately it was shut but we walked all round the outside of it. A very lovely place and in very good repair. Came on through Chepstow, Caerphilly and Nelson. Celebrations all the way up, several bonfires and a few rockets, floodlighting and illuminating V’s etc. Rumours all day. We fully expected the official announcement on the 9.00 o’clock news. Now we are waiting for Attlee to broadcast at midnight. We are all expecting Japan to agree to our terms of course, and that means peace.
……….
PEACE
Attlee has just announced that Japan has accepted our surrender terms and that tomorrow and the next day will be celebrated as victory days throughout the country. A very matter of fact speech with none of the drama that old Churchill would have put into it. The whole Empire must be sorry that he couldn’t make the announcement. We toasted the new peace with whiskey and wine and cake. Rockets started exploding singly and there was a little shouting. From the bedroom window we could see about 15 bonfires – but none really large. Later on crowds in town sang and danced and prayed until 3.00 o’clock in the morning. Hooters went as well and engines in the station blew their whistles. Several church bells rang including ours (people thundered on the door of the Vicarage, woke the Vicar and pretty well told him to ring it) and there was a peal of bells from the Parish Church. Town filled rapidly and there were crowds there for hours.
15th August
Rain last night, and after a week of very dry weather and the air was cold and clean with smoke drifting up and the sound of church bells in the valley. Very calm and peaceful, fresh and sweet, like a Sunday morning. I read most of the morning and nearly all the afternoon. Listened to a description of the King driving down Whitehall to open Parliament and also went to town where the shops were open till about 10.30. Then came home to find they had all gone to a Thanksgiving Service in Cyfarthfa so we down town to see if there was anything doing. There seemed to be a lot of troops about (nearly all army) but things were fairly quiet. Plenty of flags and streamers. Came back via Thomastown and up the Tramroad in time to hear the King at 21.00. We all went down to the bonfire on the allotments after the news (for which we supplied most of the heavy logs). About 20 good bonfires in the valley and lots of rockets and fireworks but no bells tonight.
16th August
Spent the morning doing little odd jobs that I wanted to clear up before going away. Read after dinner till 15.00 when we decided to go down to Cardiff to see Terence Rattigan’s play “While the Sun Shines”. Play very good. Museum floodlit. A large crowd was dancing and singing in front of the Civic Centre. Bonfires all the way up the valley but not on the same scale as Coronation night. Came through Pontypridd where they had coloured lights strung along both sides of the main streets for about a mile and a well made crown fixed over the bridge. Very poor fireworks, but it is amazing that people have any at all. Saw lots of street teas on the way down.
Commercial Break
Troedyrhiw Horticulturists
110 years ago today……
The Forgotten ‘Merthyr Tydfil Judgment of 1900’
by Roger Evans
Poverty, and hardship went hand in hand with worker exploitation during the industrial revolution, accompanied by disease and starvation. As a measure of help for the destitute, Poor Law Unions were established under the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, administered by the local Board of Guardians. Many of these Unions, including that of Merthyr, continued in operation until 1930 when they were replaced by local authority Public Assistance Committees. After 1945 the Poor Laws were replaced by Welfare State legislation brought in by the post war Attlee Government.
In 1898 South Wales miners went on a prolonged and historic strike. It was an attempt by the colliers to remove the sliding scale, which determined wages based on the price of coal. There was widespread agreement that Merthyr Board of Guardians had no choice in law but to support destitute strikers, even though they had voluntarily withdrawn their labour.
The strike quickly turned into a disastrous lockout which lasted for six months and ultimately resulted in a failure for the colliers. There were some concessions but the sliding scale stayed in place.
The strike however was viewed as an important landmark in Trade Union history as it saw the true adoption of trade unionism in the coalfields of The Valleys. The South Wales Miners’ Federation union originated from this dispute. As a result, coal companies took the Merthyr Board of Guardians to court, as they did not want to see striking workers gain any financial support.
In the subsequent famous High Court ruling in 1900, the Master of the Rolls (the equivalent of today’s Supreme Court), ruled the policy of relieving the strikers had indeed been unlawful. The Guardians were allowed to help dependents of strikers if they were destitute. Unmarried strikers however, had no access to poor relief whatsoever. The high court verdict became known throughout Britain as ‘The Merthyr Tydfil Judgment of 1900’. Often cited in subsequent strikes elsewhere in the country, including the 1926 General Strike.
Historians viewed the ruling as part of the employers’ counteroffensive against the labour movement of the 1890’s and 1900’s.
The 1834 Poor Law Act was replaced by The Local Government Act, 1929. Workhouses were abolished and The Board of Guardians dissolved, functions being transferred to the Public Assistance Committee. The Merthyr Judgement effectively rendered null and void.
Memories of Old Merthyr
We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.
We now, however, resume from the junction of Brecon Road and follow the one with the Tramroad on or alongside. Beyond on the right-hand for some distance were cottages; they had small gardens in front, but not one had a back door. The level of the field would probably range from three to ten feet higher than the ground floor of the dwelling.
After these cottages was the Cambrian Inn, and then Bryant’s Brewery, which had malthouses also, but had all ceased to to work ere I can recall it. This Mr Bryant was then old, and, I think, migrated to Cefn near Bridgend, and identified himself in the coal getting. Quarry Row is the opening if we continue to the right, but we next pass the grocery shop of Mr Charles. There were some more cottages, also a shop or two, and the Jackson’s Bridge public house on the bank of the Taff was the last of that side.
On the left, from where the Tramroad became a portion of the road, some few cottages under the tip, then the Bethesda Chapel lying back, and some cottages again by the side of the Tramroad, and, unless I err, some down near the bottom of the tip. It was in some of these houses or cottages very important persons resided, they were the acting parish constables who lived there.
There were three that can be recalled – two of the name Williams. There were ‘Billy the Balca’ and his brother Tom, of course of the same place; the surname of the other has gone, but he was known as ‘John Keep her Down’, from his method of dealing with corpses in the dreadful time of the cholera visitation. No doubt they had rather a rough time sometimes. Drunken brawls were not unusual, but there was then no ‘Bruce’s Act’ demanding their attention as to the hour of closing.
The good residence below was occupied by Mr David James, who carried on the business of a tanner. His yard was close by, having an entrance at the end of the garden. Mr William Davis, the eldest son of Mr David Davis, of the (then) London House, Hirwaun, was apprenticed to learn the tannery trade here, but after a while that was abandoned and the sale of coal occupied his attention. Another apprentice to Mr James named O’Connell, was a nephew of great Daniel, the Irish agitator.
Below the opening was the Black Bull, having its own brewery connected with it in the rear. Cottages followed a short way, a grocer’s shop, kept by Mr Samuel Thomas, afterwards of Scyborwen (sic), and then only a few cottages brought us to the Jackson’s Bridge again.
To be continued at a later date……