Month: December 2021

The District Nurse Always Got There

by Mansell Richards

Prior to the 1960s and the arrival of the mass-produced, affordable motor car, district nurses visited their patients on foot or by bus. These hard- working ladies often walked miles in extremely bad weather,- rain,  hail, snow and gale force winds.

One such lady was Nurse Frances Evans of Muriel Terrace, Caeharris, Dowlais. The mother of two children – David and Dwynwen; she had, sadly, lost an eight year old son, Elwyn to diphtheria in 1938, a child-killing disease of the time.

For several years during the 1950s her once-a-week journey was sometimes unusual to say the least.

Normally, she travelled every Tuesday on the 1.15PM train from Caeharris Railway Station  (located behind the Antelope Hotel on upper Dowlais High Street) to the  isolated, windswept former coal-mining community  of Cwmbargoed some 4 miles away,  the home of her elderly patient, former miner, Mr Horace Morgan. He was a surgical case who needed skilled attention every week. Back in those days the isolated village of Cwmbargoed was situated on the main line from Dowlais to Bedlinog.

THE COLLIERS’ TRAIN

Nurse Evans always referred to this train as ‘The Colliers’ Train’, recalling vivid  memories of her younger days when hundreds of colliers disembarked every afternoon at Caeharris Station from ‘The Cwbs’, (these were old, basic carriages with wooden benches for seats). These colliers were returning to their homes having completed their early morning shifts in the pits at Cwmbargoed, Fochriw and Bedlinog etc. With so many pit closures between the wars however, far fewer colliers by the 1950s were travelling on this route.

Meanwhile after puchasing a ticket at the ticket office (priced 6d each way), Nurse Evans would begin her journey to Cwmbargoed. But with other patients to visit, she would sometimes miss the 1.15pm train, the next train leaving some three hours later. On these occasions she would be given a lift by other means. But no ordinary train this. It consisted of a single steam-driven locomotive and a guard’s van. She would be offered the only seat and would sit uncomfortably, behind the kindly driver and his sweating, grime-faced, coal-shovelling fireman.

Dowlais colliers returning home c. 1930 by Dewi Bowen

JOURNEY’S END

On arrival at Cwmbargoed Nurse Evans would have a ten minute walk to the home of old Mr Morgan. On one occasion she fell into a snow drift and was rescued by a passing workman who heard her cries for help.

All district nurses had large areas to cover and they walked miles every day. In some parts of the country, some may well have adopted the means of transport favoured by a nurse in the modern, 1950s-based television series ‘Call The Midwife’, by making use of a bicycle. However, there is no evidence of local nurses relying on this method of transport.

Needless to say Nurse Evans, who retired in 1962 enjoyed her occasionally unusual  journey inside a hot and noisy  steam  locomotive, across the lonely, windswept moorland above the town of Merthyr Tydfil.

Older folk may recall Nurse Evans, a kind and gentle lady, who was held in great affection by her patients during the 1950s and early 60s.

(This story was taken from an article in the Merthyr Express on 8 March 1958. Meanwhile, I thank Sian Anthony, Dowlais Library Service, Terry Jones, John Richards and the family of the late Dewi Bowen for their valuable assistance).

Merthyr’s Chapels: Zoar Chapel

Zoar Welsh Independent Chapel

In 1794 a group of worshippers dissatisfied with the form of worship at Ynysgau Chapel left to start their own cause, and met in the Long Room of the Crown Inn; paying £6 a year for the hire of the room. In 1797 the congregation asked Mr Howell Powell of Newport to come and minister to them, and within a year they decided to build their own chapel.

An extensive piece of land was acquired to build a new chapel and the building began in 1798. The land that was acquired stretched from the main road to the Morlais Brook, and was leased for the sum of 12 guineas per annum, but the congregation could not pay that sum of money. Consequently, Mr Henry Thomas or Harri’r Blawd as he was frequently called, took the lease from them and gave them the land on which the present chapel is now built for a rent of £3.7s.

Despite this, the congregation still struggled to find the money to build the chapel, but thanks to a number of donations, the chapel was finally completed in 1803. With the new chapel completed, the members asked Rev Daniel Lewis to become their first minister.

From the outset of his ministry, Rev Lewis was determined to clear the chapel’s debt and thus travelled to London to raise money. On his return however, he presented the chapel with a list of his expenses incurred during his trip. Several of the members objected to the amount of the expenses and instigated an investigation by several ministers from other church. The investigation exonerated Rev Lewis, but those members who had instigated the investigation were unhappy the result and left to start their own cause, which eventually became Bethesda Chapel.

Within two years of this controversy, Rev Lewis decided to leave the chapel, and in 1810 Rev Samuel Evans (right) was ordained as minister, and it was under his ministry that the chapel began to prosper and eventually became one of the most important chapels in the area.

With Rev Evans’ influence the congregation grew rapidly, and in 1825 a new chapel was built at a cost £600. The membership increased steadily, but sadly Rev Samuel Evans died on 27 June 1833 at the age of 56.

For two years following Rev Evans’ death the chapel was without a minister as the members felt that it would be impossible to find someone qualified enough to fill the place of “twysog a’r gwr mawr oedd wedi syrthio” (the prince and great man who had fallen).

However, before the end of 1835, Rev Benjamin Owen (right) from Pembrokeshire was invited to become minister of the chapel. Rev Owen proved to be a worthy successor to Samuel Evans, and the chapel went from strength to strength.

By 1840 the congregation had once again grown considerably and it was decided to once again build a new chapel. Rev Owen was himself a gifted architect, and he designed the new building. The stonework was completed by Messrs Thomas Williams and David Richards, and the woodwork by John Gabe. The new chapel, one of the biggest in Wales, was completed in 1842 at a cost of £2300.

In 1849 Merthyr was hit by a devastating cholera epidemic in which 1,682 people died in Merthyr and Dowlais alone. In the aftermath of this, a religious revival occurred in the town and hundreds of people joined the congregation at Zoar, with 120 people actually being accepted into the church on one Sunday alone.

Due to the increase of numbers, in 1854 it was decided to build two schoolrooms at a cost of £800 – one in Caedraw and one in Pwllyrwhiad. In 1867 another large schoolroom was built in front of the chapel. Two houses were bought to make room for the building and the schoolroom was built at a cost of £550. In 1907, another large schoolroom was built at Queens Road at a cost of £750.

Zoar Schoolroom, Queen’s Road

By 2009, the membership of the chapel had dwindled to just six people, and it was reluctantly decided to close the chapel.

The chapel is now listed Grade II, as being of Special Architectural and Historic Interest.

The future of the chapel is ensured as it has been bought by Canolfan a Menter Gymraeg Merthyr Tudful and has been given a grant pledge of £527,000 from the Heritage Lottery Fund to transform the Chapel and Vestry buildings into a centre for performing arts and community activities. The project has also been supported with £300,000 from the Heads of the Valleys programme.

The new complex opened in 2011 and it is now a highly regarded and very important hub in the town.

The interior of Zoar Chapel just before it was converted into Canolfan Soar

Merthyr Memories: Memories of Christmas

by Laura Bray

Christmas is always a time of nostalgia, always tinted with that golden glow! So when Steve asked me to share my memories of Christmas, it was hard to think of a place or time, there were so many to chose from.

But in the end, I focused on the early 1980s and I hope this resonates with some of you.

For me, Christmas has always been predominantly a religious festival, wrapped round with music. We knew we were getting close, when St David’s Church choir, or the Cyfarthfa School Girls Choir, both under Derry Prothero’s capable leadership, dusted off the Christmas anthems, usually in about October! Also, rehearsals with the Cyfarthfa School Mixed Choir under the leadership of Ian Hopkins, were held at around the same time.

Cyfarthfa School Mixed Choir in the 1980s with Ian Hopkins (front). Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

In the case of the Girls Choir it was things like Britten’s “This Little Babe” difficult, but effective, cannoning round the church,  or Elgar’s “Snow” and the more traditional “Adam Lay a-Bounden” as well as three-part “Ding Dong Merrily”.  All practised in school and culminating in a half day rehearsal in the church itself and an early finish!

In the church choir – which then consisted of around 30 choristers-  there were endless rehearsals for The Nine Lessons service;  of “Once in Royal” for the procession, and the traditional anthems such as  “In the Bleak Mid Winter”, “The Sussex Carol” “Joy to the World’ or Rutter’s “Angel Carol”.  Derry was great at mixing the much loved oldies, with some newer works.

St David’s Church Choir with Derry Prothero (far right). Photo courtesy of Caroline Owen

By mid December we had sang for the school carol concert before the end of term, and, for those of us who were also in the church choir,  for the Nine Lessons and Carols on the 4th Sunday in Advent. I remember the descants we sang – always challenging and always high, and always “can belto”!

For a couple of years after the Nine Lessons, as if we hadn’t sung enough,  the church  choir then headed out to the streets around the church – Twyn Hill, and Thomastown mostly  – and belted out, from memory and in full 4 part harmony, all of the stalwarts “Hark the Herald”, “O Come All Ye Faithful”, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, “Away in a Manger” and so on, to raise money for the church organ fund. We sang in the middle of the road while a couple of us knocked on doors with our rattling tins, taking requests and asking for contributions. Few people turned us down.  We sang till we were cold and hoarse. Not even Sandbrook House, then a nursing home, escaped the carol singing!

On Christmas Eve itself I would wait to hear the Salvation Army Band, playing carols round the streets, before heading down to the Vulcan with my friends for Christmas drinks. Not too many, mind, as we were back in church for the Midnight Mass at 11.30 and more carols, including one of my absolute favourites –  “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”. The service always began by candlelight, and the church lit up gradually until it was flooded with colour, light and sparkle, and you could see who was there. Sometimes old choristers came to join us, swelling the numbers of the choir even further.

The Vulcan (pre the 1980s). Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The Midnight was always packed and was a great place to catch up with friends and acquaintances who had moved from Merthyr but come home for Christmas. The atmosphere was magical and lively!

We always finished with “Hark the Herald” – sometimes sung with more enthusiasm than accuracy at the end of weeks of singing and a touch of alcohol!

Then home to bed. Another Christmas celebrated. And the echo of music in the night.

David Alfred Thomas and the Lusitania – part 2

Sinking of the Lusitania. Engraving by Norman Wilkinson, The Illustrated London News, May 15, 1915

Rescue

Lifeboat #11 was spotted by the trawler Wanderer of Peel and the boat took on the survivors.  After four hours of being cold and miserable, Oliver asked D. A., “Exciting day, Mr. Thomas?”

“Outrageous.  Simply outrageous.”  D. A. growled.

“They certainly made a job of it.”

“Didn’t you see what happened at the lifeboats?  Deplorable.  The standard of human efficiency is far below what we are entitled to expect — today it was ghastly.”

“Of course,” Bernard said, “it’s got to start at the top.  You can’t expect efficiency from the crew if you don’t set an example on the bridge.”

“What do you imagine the percentage of average efficiency to be?”  Thomas asked.

“Fifty per cent?”

“Nonsense, young man.  Any employer who gets an average of ten per cent efficiency all around is doing extremely well.”

The Wanderer of Peel  (foreground) with the sinking Lusitania. Photo courtesy of The Lusitania Resource

As the Wanderer was becoming overcrowded, the skipper, Ball, had to have many of the rescued transferred.  Bernard and Thomas were taken aboard the trawler Flying Fish.

At Queenstown, he was looked after by a Catholic priest who treated D. A. to dinner and brandy, despite D. A.’s protests.  By the time he returned to the Queenstown quay to await news of his daughter, he was a bit tipsy.

Margaret was aboard the Bluebell, the same boat that saved Captain Turner. Upon their reunion, the father and daughter checked into the Queen’s Hotel to put an end to their ordeal.  Dorothy visited Lady Mackworth the next morning to check up on her and to say that Howard was safe.  Lady Mackworth and D. A. Thomas went home to Wales; Dorothy and Howard continued on to work on the battlefields of France.

Despite his survival, the Lusitania left a lasting impression.  D.A. Thomas would later remark, “The thought of crossing the Atlantic frightens me.  I can’t get the Lusitania out of my mind.  I dream of it.”*

Media coverage

The New York Times of 8 May 1915.

The 8 May 1915 New York Times, page 4 ran this:   “Mr. Thomas declined to relate his experience, saying that he had too easy a time to be interesting.  Just as a boat was being lowered on the starboard side an officer ordered him to take a vacant seat.  This boat got away without any trouble and was one of the first to be picked up.”

One of the more interesting headlines detailing D. A.’s survival read:  “GREAT NATIONAL DISASTER.  D. A. THOMAS SAVED.”

After Lusitania

D.A. Thomas was awarded the title of Baron Rhondda in 1916.  From 1916 to 1917, he was President of the Local Government Board.  When he was appointed Minister of Food in June of 1917, he introduced food rationing to Great Britain.  Another title, Viscount, came to D. A. in June of 1918.  He was only able to enjoy his title for one month, as he died on 3 July 1918 in Llanwern, Monmouthshire.  His title and peerage, by special remainder, were inherited by her daughter Margaret.  Margaret wrote about him in her 1933 autobiography, This Was My World.

This article is reproduced with the kind permission of the webmasters of https://www.rmslusitania.info/. If you have an interest in the Lusitania – I would recommend visiting this remarkable and fantastically researched site.

David Alfred Thomas and the Lusitania – part 1

David Alfred Thomas (1856–1918), 59, (right) was a British Member of Parliament travelling aboard Lusitania with his daughter Margaret Mackworth and his secretary Arnold Rhys-Evans.  On board, they also became friends with Dr. Howard Fisher and his sister-in-law, Dorothy Conner, who were travelling to France to work in the field hospitals.  Father and daughter were separated during the sinking, but both survived, as did Fisher and Conner.

Family and background

David Alfred Thomas was born in Ysgyborwen, Glamorgan, Wales on 26 March 1856 as the son of Welsh coal magnate Samuel Thomas of Aberdare.  He was educated at Caius College, Cambridge, and returned to Wales to become the senior partner in the Cardiff-based Thomas and Davey.  This company owned several collieries in the Rhondda Valley.  Despite being born into wealth and privilege, D. A.’s needs were simple.  A Labour politician had even commented, “There goes Thomas — with the income of a duke and the tastes of a peasant.”

Subsequently, D. A. Thomas married Sybil Haig on 27 June 1882.  Their only child, Margaret Haig Thomas, later Lady Humphrey Mackworth and even later Viscountess Rhondda, was born in 1883.  D. A. educated his daughter in matters of business and she became a champion for women’s equality everywhere.  As D. A. would say of her daughter, “Margaret and I are not like father and daughter.  We’re buddies.”

Involvement in politics

D.A. Thomas was elected Member of Parliament (MP) as a Liberal for Merthyr Tydfil in 1888.  He subsequently became MP of Cardiff as well, and he held these positions until the 1910 General Election.  Although Thomas was reputedly an agnostic, he was a supporter of Nonconformity in his constituency.  He even laid the foundation stone of Soar Welsh Calvinistic Church, Cwmaman, and many others.

When the First World War broke, David Lloyd George sent D. A. Thomas to arrange the supply of munitions for the British armed forces.  In April of 1915, D. A. Thomas and his daughter Margaret, who was now her personal assistant and proxy, went to take a look at Thomas’ interests in the Pennsylvania coal mines.  He also was launching a new barge service on the Mississippi and planning extensions of Canada’s railroad system.  His secretary, Arnold Rhys-Evans, also came along.

Lusitania

To end their trip abroad, they had booked passage on the Lusitania.  His saloon cabin was the parlour suite B-86, B-88.  Aboard the Lusitania, D. A. Thomas and his daughter had befriended Dr. Howard Fisher and Nurse Dorothy Conner, Fisher’s sister-in-law.  Dorothy had often commented on the lack of excitement on the voyage and was often teased by D. A.  Margaret had also found the voyage rather dull, but as her father was having fun she decided to keep her mouth shut.

A plan of ‘B’ Deck on the Lusitania. D A Thomas’ suite is marked with red dot. Plan courtesy of The Lusitania Resource
A typical 1st Class bedroom on the Lusitania. Photo courtesy of The Lusitania Resource

On the afternoon of 7 May, D. A., Margaret, Arnold, Dorothy, and Howard all sat down to lunch with the foghorn blaring.  Margaret remarked, “Home tomorrow!  Aren’t you pleased, father?”

“I would be more pleased, my dear,” D. A. remarked, “if I believed that wretched siren hasn’t given our whereabouts away.”

Margaret Mackworth in 1915

Margaret and D. A. left the saloon and left Howard and Dorothy to finish lunch by themselves.  The father and daughter stood waiting for the elevator with Frederick Tootal and Albert Byington.  D. A. then joked with his daughter, saying, “You know, Margaret, I think we might stay up on deck tonight.  Just to see if you get your thrill.”

Before Margaret could respond, they felt the torpedo rock the ship with “a dull thudding sound.”  They were already partially inside the elevator, but instinctively, they stepped back, a move that would save their lives.  D. A. ran over to a porthole to see what had happened; Margaret went upstairs to grab lifebelts, and they were separated.

Sometime later, D. A. tried to get back to his cabin, but he found the stairs to be too crowded.  A steward gave him an inflatable lifebelt, but it wouldn’t work.  He was finally able to get to his cabin and retrieve one from the wardrobe.  On deck, he saw the ship overwhelmed by “absolute confusion” and “an entire absence of discipline” among the crew.

Back outside, he saw that the water was almost level with the deck and a woman with a small child hesitating to get into a lifeboat.  D. A. shoved them both into the boat, #11, before he jumped in himself.  Oliver Bernard, also in the boat, was amused by the “rather worried and puzzled expression” on the Welshman’s face.  His secretary, Arnold Rhys-Evans, was also in #11, but had gotten in before D. A. did.  Being one of the last boats to leave, #11 was still close enough to the Lusitania when she foundered that they were in danger of being crushed by the funnels.

To be continued…..

This article is reproduced with the kind permission of the webmasters of https://www.rmslusitania.info/. If you have an interest in the Lusitania – I would recommend visiting this remarkable and fantastically researched site.