Merthyr’s Lost Landmarks: The County School

by Carolyn Jacob

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

When this new secondary school was opened on the 12th October 1896, education in Merthyr Tydfil came under the responsibility of the county of Glamorgan, hence the name County School.  The first appointed Headmaster was Charles Owen.

The Welsh Intermediate Act set up the school to be intermediate between free elementary schools and university. Education here was not free. In 1912 it cost £1 per term and parents had to pay for all books. The school successfully sent many pupils to university.

When a school magazine called ‘ The Merthyrian’ was published in March 1923 the school was officially known by the title of ‘The Merthyr Intermediate and Technical School’, however, it soon reverted back to its old title of ‘County’. There were separate staffrooms for the male and female teachers  and the men’s  staffroom was very smoky. The magazine reveals that there was a great concern to distinguish between the girls’ corridor and the boys ‘corridor.

This was a very popular school. In the 1950s St David’s Day was celebrated in the County Grammar School by a concert in the school hall with singing, reciting and dancing. There was an annual gala of the Merthyr Borough Schools held at Gwaunfarren Baths.

County School Swimming Team 1950s. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

In the 1940s W.P. Morrell was head teacher but by 1947 Dr T.H. Lewis succeeded him, then Mr Horton was the Headmaster, succeeded by Dr Leslie Reed.

On the rugby team in the 1940s was Howard Watkins, who played for Abertillery a top team then. The sports teachers then were Hubert Gwynne, boys and Miss Mullins, girls.

The County School Rugby team 1946-7. Howard Thomas is in the front row, far right. Mr Hubert Gwynne is third from left in the front row. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive.

The County Grammar School were the winners of the Keir Hardie football shield in 1953.  In the 1950s the County School had a noted choir with the eminent music teacher Glynne Jones as the choir master. Glynne Jones was also conductor of the highly successful Silurian Singers and he stamped his own personality and crusading zeal on both the County School Choir and the Pendyrus Choir. Under his guidance the Pendyrus Choir gained many national awards. Sadly Glynne’s 38 year directorship ended with his sudden and untimely death on Christmas Eve 2000.

County School Choir 1957. Courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The County School certainly had some very eminent teachers and Sir Glanmor Williams frequently said that his happiest years were spent as a teacher in the school.

It would not be possible to name all of the teachers but there are some that are still remembered by ex pupils:- Hubert Gwynne ( games), Ron Gethin (geography), Meirona Jenkins (Welsh),  Elvet Jones-Taddy (French), Mr Jenkins (English), Mr Jones (Latin), Margaret Hughes ( Senior Mistress), Thomas (Mathematics), Mr Gwilym Jones (Art), Mrs Bale (Biology),  Dorothy Williams (affectionately known as Dotty ) (Latin)  Mr Pritchard (P. E.), Mr Glyn Llewllyn (French and German).

Two of the most long serving teachers, Mr Elvet Jones, (deputy headmaster) and Leslie Burns (English master), retired before the school closed. The senior mistress before closure was Mr M. E. Jenkins.

Although the County School was in an outdated building, because the school had a very good reputation and was held in high regard, the school continued until the opening of the new Pen-y-dre school in the early 1970s.

The school ceased to function as a grammar school in 1971. Dr Leslie Reed was in charge of the school in its final years from 1963 to 1971 and then he went onto become the headmaster of the new Pen-y-dre school. The building was finally demolished in October 1979

The South Wales Lock Out

The article transcribed below appeared in the Illustrated London News 150 years ago today.

Several fresh illustrations are given this week, from sketches by our own artists, of the deplorable stoppage of labour in the vast collieries and ironworks of South Wales. The amount of interests involved in this unfortunate rupture between capital and labour is estimated by the correspondent of a daily paper:—

“In Monmouthshire and Glamorgan there are, all told, 450 collieries, of which about 150 are the property of ironmasters. In times when business is at full swing, the amount of coal ‘won’ from these numerous pits reaches 350,000 tons weekly. The manufacture of iron in the district demands 100,000 tons this weekly output, the remainder being spread abroad—some for shipping purposes, but the greater part for household and factory consumption. To raise 350,000 tons of coal in six days would require the operation of 70,000 hands—that is to say, practical ‘pitmen’, with labourers and lads. It is reckoned that the united earnings of this great body of workmen average £100,000 a week—about 27s. a head per week ‘all round’;  or take the labourers and lads at 10s. to £1 a week, and the miners at 34s.

In the immediate vicinity of these collieries are the establishments of at least a score of leading ironmasters, giving employment to some 30,000 men. Taking an ironworker’s wages at the low average of 27s. a week, nearly £40,000 would be required to satisfy the number above indicated. Then there are those who are engaged in the ironstone mines, a body of men reckoned by thousands, and whose earnings are said to be at least £10,000 weekly. One way and another it may be fairly reckoned that the South Wales coal-fields are not worked at a less weekly average cost in the shape of wages than £150,000, and when nothing is amiss this is the sum, barring the small savings of the pitman, which between Saturday and Saturday finds its way into the tills of the butcher, the baker, the grocer, the publican, and other worthy tradesfolk of Merthyr, Aberdare, Dowlais, and the surrounding districts. It is hard to say who feel most acutely the pinch of the lock-out—the shopkeeper, or those who in flourishing times are his profitable customers. In by far the majority of instances, the tradesmen in question depend mainly for support on those who are employed in the pits and at the ironworks, and when these are rendered wageless the shopkeeper may as well put up his shutters.”

Merthyr Tydvil, a place of 70,000 inhabitants, including the Dowlais, Cyfarthfa, Pen-y-darren, and other works, in the neighbourhood of the town, is situated in the north of Glamorganshire. It takes its name from an ancient Celtic princess, named Tydvil, who was Christian virgin martyr, slaughtered by the Pagan Saxons about King Arthur’s time. The Vale of Merthyr varies in width from a mile to half a mile, with hills on each side that nowhere reach an altitude of 2000 feet. It has all the characteristics of those valleys of South Wales where the days are darkened by furnaces vomiting smoke and the nights are illumined by hundreds of furnace fires. Such, at least, is its normal condition. The Vale of Merthyr is not the least valuable of the wealth-producing districts where gigantic fortunes have been accumulated. Right and left shafts rise out of the hill-side, and from side to side engines reply to each other. Small streams bear away the water that constantly springs in the underground workings. The entire vale is intersected with tramways, by which coal is conveyed, from the pit to the metal-works.

“But these days,” writes newspaper correspondent, “the Vale of Merthyr has begun to put on an appearance of desolation. The Plymouth Iron and Coal Works, which extend for nearly a couple of miles, and present a succession of valuable workings, are strangely silent. The steam-engines at the pit mouth, noisily and showily pumping, throw significant aspect of inactivity upon acres of unworked machinery; and there is long line of black, funnels, tall chimneys, gaunt beams and cranks, and gaping machinery in cold repose. Not a gleam will to-night enlighten the landscape where for years the valley has been notorious for its unearthly glare. An old man, gazing upon the dismal desertion of these magnificent works, says there are people starving in the valley, and that half the distress which exists, and will exist here, will be never known.”

In the midst of so much gloom, there is one gleam of satisfaction in the fact that the ironstone-miners are working. They will not be stopped. They have been associated with the ironworkers in past reductions, and, as they are dependent upon neither collieries nor ironworkers, work has been secured to them at Cyfarthfa. These men attempted a resistance to the first reduction, and were out about two months. They then applied for work, but the difference with the ironmasters having obliged Mr. Crawshay to blow out his blast-furnaces, he told them ironstone was not required. If, however, they chose to work upon the wages of 1871—that was, 30 per cent below the highest point which had been reached, and the level to which the present reduction of 10 per cent brings colliers’ labour—they might go on. They accepted the offer, and have been working with regularity ever since.

Although the ironworks have been at a standstill all the time, and the colliers are now reduced to a similar condition, they will be kept going, no matter how long this struggle may last. It is stated that Mr. Crawshay would have kept his ironworkers similarly employed, had they met him in the same spirit; he would have stocked iron to the extent of 100,000 tons rather than they should have been thrown out of employment. Further, he made more than one effort to come to an arrangement with the association for the employment of his ironworks colliers alone, but the union question cropped up and became an insurmountable obstacle. Cyfarthfa, therefore, with the exception of the ironstone works, is in the same position as all the rest of the ironworks, with one furnace only in blast.

There has been no event of importance during the week, lord Aberdare (who was Mr. Bruce, late Home Secretary) has declined to interfere on behalf of the men, and advises them give way. The Merthyr poor-law guardians impose stone-breaking tasks as a condition of outdoor relief.

Illustrated London News – 20 February 1875

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 25

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XXII. Henry recounts his return to honest labour at Cwm Pit Colliery, and the problems encountered in concealing his past.  

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 25th June 1910, page 9.

Chapter XXII

Nine years of incessant labour on a convicts settlement plays havoc with  a man’s strength. After about three weeks’ rest I made up my mind to look for a job; so I wandered up to Heolgerrig, where I knew of an overman, and who was known as Shoney Bach for short. I met   him just outside his house and walked up to him. I said, “Is there any chance for a start, Mr W_______” “Indeed,” he replied, “I’m afraid that the pit is full up” “I am very sorry,” says I, “but I happen to be badly in want of a start just now.” “There may be a chance later on,” says he. “What is your name?” “Harry Williams,” says I. “What, are you the same Harry Williams that used to go to Georgetown School with me, and who was sentenced to penal servitude years ago?” “I am the same one,” I replied. “Good heavens, Harry,” says he, “You have altered.” After giving me a bit of good advice he said, “You can come to work to-night, Harry, I will put you on the screen until I see something better for you.”

I thanked him, and went home to make preparations, and on the following day I went to the offices on the head of the pit to sign on. Having done so, I went home and started work that night. I was getting on very well, for although the work in the screen was a bit dusty I preferred it to the dust of the Portland limestone. I was not long on the screen before I was sent under to work as labourer. There was no one there at the time who knew me, although I recognised several faces, one or two who had been schoolmates. I kept as much as possible to myself, for I did not want the whole pit to know that I was a released convict on ticket-of-leave. But no matter how hard a person tries to conceal his identity, spotted he will be in the end, as I was. Not that I cared in the least, for I had suffered for what I had done.

I was one night told off by the fireman to the heading to shift a few trams of debris, and I was accompanied by a young chap named Peter Lodge. An agreeable little fellow was Peter, and we got on well together; for we devised a way to do our work properly without killing ourselves. Peter and I didn’t work the same as other shifters, one shifting one tram and the other shifting the next one. Peter and I used to drive in at the same tram, and then sit down and take a rest until the next came. Yes, I often think of young Peter now, for a better little comrade not to be found in a day’s march.

But even in a coalmine there can be found some interfering person, and one night Peter and I were having our snap time – that is a rest from twelve to one – when two labourers whom I knew, although they did not know me at the time, came into our place, sat down on a lump of coal, and proceeded to “chew the fat” with Peter, my mate. “Hullo,” says one, “you’ve got a new mate with you to-night, Peter.” “Yes,” says he, and turning to me, they said, “You know, mate, you’ve got to pay your footing.” “So I suppose,” says I, “but which way will you have it, standing up here or  a boxing contest up at Taylor’s?” (This being a well-known boxing saloon). But I wasn’t having any of it, for I did not wish to be sent back to Portland to do my ticket. Anyway they cooled down in the end, and one of them, lifting his lamp, looked into my face, and turning to his mate, he said, “Do you know who this fellow looks like?” “No,” says the other. “Why, Harry Williams,” says his mate; him who was sentenced to penal servitude in 98.” “Oh I remember,” replied the other, “do you mean Harry Cobler?” “Of course, I do.” So, they then kept my name in their brain, and mixing my character up, one giving me a good name, and the other condemning me.

Of course, I had already told Peter who I was, and when their conversation was getting heated, Peter was laughing fit to burst, for little did they know that I was the man. The snap time over, they had to clear out of it, and  a few more trams of debris were brought with it. Knocking off time came, and Peter and I put our shovels away, and made our way back to the shaft, and off home. That’s all I know of the first night for many years of the Cwm Pit Colliery.

To be continued…..

Memories of Old Merthyr

We conclude our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

© William Menelaus (1818-1882); Hagarty, Parker; Cardiff University; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/william-menelaus-18181882-15929

To some it is probable that to say much of Dowlais and leave the name of Mr Wm. Menelaus not prominently mentioned is like enacting the play “Hamlet” and leave out Hamlet himself. To such it is fair to say my knowledge of the place is antecedent to meeting with that gentleman prior to his going there. That he did much to keep up the prestige of the place is truthfully admitted. That he did not accomplish all his desires is also a fact; his intention and actual conversion of some portion of the works to another branch of manufacture can be doubtless recalled by many. Let me bear my humble tribute to his memory. Wishing Dowlais well, I will now part with it, and hope its future will be prosperous.

Instead of returning to Merthyr by the road, let us take a pleasanter way, and, mounting some steps by the roadside at Gellifaelog, cross by the footpath over a field or two, and then take the lane (or maybe paved road) back, passing by Gwaunfarren across the limestone tramroad there (there was also a limekiln close by), and we are close to the Penydarren Park again.

Before making my congé, let me recall some things that are now gone, most probably gone forever. One is the ‘Merched y Wern’ from Neath; they were well known, Their vocation in life some 60 or 70 years ago was to go to Swansea Pottery, and, getting a large crate or basket, in reality of ware, return to Neath upon the next morning loaded with the ware, walk to Merthyr to dispose of it. They were necessarily hardy and masculine. During their walks shoes or boots, as well as stockings, were taken off, only to be put on when entering a populous place. They were generally reputed to be well able to protect themselves. Generally there were two, three or four together, and evil betide any who raised their wrath. There is a tale of a man having said something being induced to accompany them for awhile, when at a suitable place he was denuded of clothing and bound a la Mazeppa – not to a horse but to a tree. Cwm-ynys Minton, not far from the Gelly Tarw junction, is the locus in quo of the episode.

Another class that has passed away are the old butter carriers, who, with their cart and horse, took weekly journeys from various parts of Carmarthenshire. They travelled 36 or even 48 hours at a stretch. Occasionally two or three would be in company; at night, some were thus able to sleep in their carts.

Then again there were the sand girls who earned a livelihood by gathering the stones from the river, calcining them and by ‘pounding’ reduce them to sand for use for domestic purposes. There are some stones far more suitable than others for this purpose – those of the silicious kind being more in request. However clear of them the river might be occasionally, a heavy flood brought down another stock, and so it went on. I am not aware if any such an employment now exists, but formerly the river from Caepantywyll to the bottom of Caedraw was the hunting ground of the sand girls.

The River Taff below Jackson’s Bridge, possibly showing some sand girls collecting stones. Reproduced by permission of The National Library of Wales Creative Archive Licence

The produce of the works, too, has undergone a strange metamorphosis. Not only are there no iron bars now made for tin works, but split rods have ceased to be so, and, while formerly large cargoes of ‘cable iron’ went to the Grecian Archipelago and other places in the Mediterranean, in vain should I look in all of South Wales for a bar bent to the shape of the camel’s back for conveyance across the desert. Advisedly, I say thousands of tons have gone from Merthyr for such a mode of conveyance.

‘Cable’ iron was also made, but if made now cannot be made from similar materials to what it used to be. I do not know of any South Wales works making cold blast all mine iron, but, if there is such it certainly not contiguous to Merthyr, where it was at one time made. Do not, however, suppose I consider Merthyr drawing to the close of its career:

“For I doubt not through the ages an increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widened by the process of the suns”

Here for the present do I close but if “The sunset of life gives me mystified life” and coming events cast their shadows before my brain, I may endeavour to say a few words respecting “What of the future?”