From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today….
Dowlais Officer Brothers
Tag: Merthyr Express
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.
That Russian contract was not all the Dowlais Company anticipated, and from a very small cause. The drawing and specification of the rail were precise and minute, but in the drawing of the section and its figured dimensions there was a slight difference (it was really 1-10th of an inch), and this being pointed out to Mr Thomas Evans, he only berated the draughtsman for so doing.
Some thousand or more tons were made and delivered on the banks of the Neva, when lo and behold, the section was found to be incorrect. Workmen were sent from Dowlais to Russia to remedy matters, and Thomas Evans himself had one, if not two, journeys to St Petersburg. It was one of these journeys that that caused his illness and death. He is buried in the Vaynor Churchyard, and at his funeral the tears chased each other down Sir John’s cheek. This is fact, for my own eyes witnessed it.
Such a host of memories crowd on me that I scarce know where to begin. Having mentioned the Evanses, they will be first; yes, dear reader, even before Mr G T Clark, for the influence of the Evans family drove Mr Clark from Dowlais at one time.
Strange, but true, that the whirligig of time should bring back a nephew of these Evanses, as not only a director, but one of the very influential ones. It is none other than Mr E Windsor Richards. Mr John Evans was, I think, the oldest, and was afflicted with gout, and being at all times hot-tempered, he was not in the best of moods while an attack of gout was on. He was of fine physique, and woe betide anyone who gave him cause for punishment.
It is said, and I believe the truth, that being upset with some intelligence from the works while confined with an attack, that he smashed, yes literally smashed, with his stick a lot of articles on his own sideboard. His position was that of blast-furnace manager. Mrs Evans was, I believe, a Miss Henry. They had two daughters, one became Mrs Simons, the other Mrs Dyke. Leaving Dowlais, Mr John Evans resided near Cardiff and is, I think, buried in Sully Churchyard.
Mr Thomas Evans’ department was, more especially, the forges and mills, but neither brother was exclusively engaged with his own part. Thomas seemed to be the upper of the trio; he was (probably from having been brought into the mingling with others) more suave. John was brusque, but had a good human heart under his ruggedness. There was one other peculiarity that others noticed. If Sir John had Thomas about him in the works, extensions or improvements were expected, but reduction of wages and or other cropping going on if John was the companion.
To be continued at a later date…….
Decorated by the King
From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today…..
The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 15
by Barrie Jones
Chapter XII. Henry recounts the difficulties of reforming and the injustice of the ‘separate system’ of imprisonment where prisoners are not permitted to talk to each other.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 16th April 1910, page 9.
Chapter XII
Small encouragement is given to a man, even to take his first step towards reforming, when he is treated in such a way as already described. A convict is sent to prison to reform, but the question is, does he reform? No doubt, many of them make a daring attempt to do so, but they all fall back again into their old course, and to prove this I will just show how impossible it is and how difficult it is for a convict to make a real and true determination to amend his ways. In the year 1902 I passed a convict at Portland Prison by the name McCarty. He was undergoing a term of four years for no very great crime, for, according to his statement, he got it for sleeping on duty during active service at the time of the late South African War. He was next cell to me at Portland in the corrugated iron cells mentioned in a previous chapter, and every night just about bedtime, or what is commonly called in prison “turning in” time, I heard him muttering something to himself. Thinking the man to be a bit weak in his intellect I decided to listen to what he was saying every night. One night I was listening when I distinctly heard the man uttering fragments of the Holy Catechism. Then I came to the conclusion at once that he was a Roman Catholic, and that he was praying to the Virgin Mary. One night while I was lying down on my hammock, I could hear this poor fellow engaged in deep communion with his God. When suddenly, I heard a loud rapping at his cell door, and an officer said, “I’ve caught you at last, I’ll stop that talking for you tomorrow.” “I’m not talking sir,” answered the poor chap, I am saying my prayers.” “Saying your prayers, are you,” said the officer, “can you say them to the Governor in the morning; perhaps he would like to hear them.”
Then coming to my cell, he said, “Look here, Williams, was not that man talking to you?” “No, certainly not,” I answered, “the man is talking to his God, and not to me.” “Oh,” says he, “you’re a bit funny, too, I think, and I will wipe the pair of you up tomorrow.” So, losing my temper, and knowing he would act in accordance with his threats, I shouted out, “If you take a liberty with me, mind, I will wipe you across the lug with the stone pick as soon as I get you out in the quarry, “for I had already been punished for assaulting one of the officers for a similar liberty that had been taken with me before. I said no more, so the following day I and this poor fellow were brought before the Governor, and he was awarded one day bread and water, and to forfeit seven days remission. “They were talking so talking so loud,” said the officer, “that one could hear them from their cells to the breakwater.” Then the Governor put the same mater of form to me, “What have you got to say?” I acknowledged the threats I had used but played on the case that the officer had committed himself by threatening me and making a false accusation against me. Whereupon, the Governor said, “I must believe the officer; he would not tell a lie.” “No, sir,” I said, “there is none of them can tell a lie,” “That will do,” says he, “three days bread and water, and forfeit eleven days remission.”
Now this man who was reported with me was a devout Christian, for anyone could see that by the continual visits he received from the priest that it was no sham. Convicts do not sham in this matter. The day after he came off punishment, he sent for the priest, and told him of the liberty the officer had taken with him, and the only thing the priest said was, “Never mind, McCarty, those who suffer unjustly in this world will be rewarded in the next.” This was poor consolation for the poor fellow, who was trying hard, and God knows as hard as ever he could try to do what was right. It is utterly useless for a man to send for the chaplain or the priest for what is said to the doctors of divinity they will certainly bring out a passage of Scripture as a means of consoling one. Still, I can justly say the only true and real friend is the prison chaplain, but he does not like to interfere with the discipline side of the prison, no matter how he would wish to. I can well remember a certain chaplain speaking to me in confidence of what he had seen with his own eyes. It was the case of a poor chap being kicked by officials. “But, you know, Williams,” says he, “if I were to interfere, I would very soon be told to mind my own business. I have had complaints and complaints from you men as to the way you are treated, but I never believed it until I actually saw it with my own eyes.” But he went on to say, “You know, I am powerless how to act.” I side a great deal with prison chaplains in this matter, because I know from experience they are thorough good men, and I have even known chaplains to throw a hint or two from the pulpit and they have put it in such words that the Governor himself could make nothing of it.
It is a great mistake for anyone to believe that a man is sent to prison to reform, for he is not given a chance to do so in spite of the chaplains’ attempts to bring him nearer to God. There are officials who make it their business by the way they beat them to make the man a brute himself, in order to gain their own end.
To be continued….
Merthyr Gliding School
by Laura Bray
During the Second World War an initiative was introduced in the form of Gliding Schools. The schools came out of the Air Training Corps, itself a successor to the Air Defence Cadet Corps, which had been founded in 1938 with the aim of training boys aged between 14 and 18 in “all matters connected with aviation”.
The ADCC was a huge success – it organised itself into squadrons of 100 boys subdivided into 4 “flights” and within 5 months of its foundation, 41 squadrons had been formed. During 1939 more than 16,000 boys and 700 officers were members of the ADCC.
Indeed, by 1940, ADCC was making such a contribution to the recruitment for the RAF that it was decided by the War Cabinet to establish an organisation to provide pre-entry training for candidates for aircrew and technical duties for both the RAF and the Fleet Air Arm. Thus the Air Training Corps was born. It became one of the most important pre-service training organisations, providing the RAF with recruits who were “air-minded” when they enlisted.
Merthyr, it will not surprise you to learn, had an ATC, founded in the summer of 1941, and on 5th August 1944, a gliding school was opened, by Air Marshall Sir Robert Brook-Popham. The Gliding School was situated at the top of the Swansea Rd, and the opening was attended by the usual civic dignitaries. Before the presentation ceremony, the officers of the various squadrons in the area, the cadets and members of the Women’s Junior Air Corps were inspected by the Air Marshall. It was noted that Merthyr had sent several hundred boys into the RAF from the ATC and that they had benefited hugely from the training they had received there, training which would now include gliding. Indeed, so committed were the ATC to this that the boys had worked all winter to build a hanger for their glider, without any help from the Air Ministry or Council and squadrons from Aberdare, Treharris and the surrounding area would be using the base as part of their training.
It is clear from the Merthyr Express report of 5 August 1944 which covered the opening, that the ATC sent boys into the army as well as the RAF, as Air Marshall Brook-Popham was keen to stress that the skills learnt in the glider school were just as valuable to that branch of the armed services.
The Gliding School was disbanded in 1945 and is now largely forgotten – unless perhaps you were there…..
The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 14
by Barrie Jones
Chapter XI. Henry recounts examples of good and bad prison warders in Portland Prison.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 9th April 1910, page 11.
Chapter XI
During the whole time I was at Portland, I never kept myself four months clear of a report, although I had a clean sheet on my arrival there. I can well remember a certain officer at Portland, who was truly a good man and quite different from all the rest. He had been over twenty-five years in the service and was well up to all the games practised by lags, and it would take a good man to take him down. I can remember saying something to him in the year 1900 in the separate cells, when he was engaged at the time giving me a special searching according to orders. He said something in answer to one thing I told him, and I said, “Now speak the truth.” “Speak the truth,” says he, “I never speak the truth in all my life, and I am not going to start now.” Of course, I know that was merely a joke of his, for I have reason to believe that he was one of the most truthful officers in the whole prison.
He did me a kindness, although small in its way, and I thought a great deal of it. I happened to be undergoing a course of bread and water punishment, and it was at Christmas. When he handed me my eight-ounce punishment loaf he remarked, “Look here, Williams, my boy,” says he, “you have a long sentence, and I am heartily sorry to see you on a day like this on bread and water, but hang it,” says he, “I will break the rules for once in my life.” Whereupon he immediately went to the cookhouse, which was situated 50 yards away, and brought me another loaf, although it was strictly contrary to rules, and I do believe he would have gladly given me a plum pudding if he dared. Many a time I had good advice from that man, for a man he was in the best sense of the word, but where there is to be found one good officer you will find many the reverse.
I remember one who used to take charge of parties when the regular officer would be doing night duty, and he would lose no time in reporting half the gang before the proper officer came back. This, of course, is done chiefly to show the other officer up, for even officers sometimes cut each other’s throats; that is to say, they do their best to get each other the sack, in order to make a name, so to speak. The man I am speaking of was always on the lookout for trouble. Properly speaking, he carried trouble in his pocket. I remember on one occasion a poor old warder, and one of the good sort, to give him his due, one day forgot accidentally to put the double lock on one of the cell doors, and the assistant warder happened to be on patrol shortly after, and while going around trying the doors, discovered a cell door on a single lock. Thinking to make his name quickly, he lost no time in giving information to the Senior Principal, with the result that the poor old warder was fined three half-crowns, what is called amongst officials half a sheet. This same officer was once in charge of a gang of convicts known as the special party, and they were employed in an enclosure where there were situated twelve separate boxes, and in the centre of each is a block of granite stone, fast to which is an iron hammer and ring, attached to a chain.
Each convict is employed breaking flint into dust, and as this is a dangerous form of employment they are supplied with wire goggles to protect the eyes. A convict was one day hammering away at a piece of this flint when suddenly it flew up and struck him in the eye, cutting right through the goggles, seriously injuring sight, and he had to go under an operation, but without success. When the Medical Officer made inquiries as to how the accident happened it was reported that the man did it purposely, with the intention of getting into the infirmary, but it was nothing of the kind. No man in his proper state of mind would injure his eyesight merely for the sake of a few days on hospital diet.
A few years later I met the same man at Parkhurst Prison, Isle-of-Wight; he had come back for a fresh term of penal servitude, and I could not help feeling sympathy towards him, for, sad to say, he was stone blind, the injured eye having affected the other one, and now the world is dark to him for ever. As to the truth of all this, the man can corroborate.
To be continued……
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.
After Dowlais House there was, I think, a house, but it was enlarged for Mr George Martin, who lived there some years after. Then came the surgery, and the entrance to the furnace yard beyond. The railroad for bringing the limestone from the quarries crossed the turnpike here, and cottages continued for some distance on the road to Rhymney.
The road to the Ivor Works runs alongside the old limestone road, and just on the corner is the residence of Mr E. P. Martin, his brother, Mr H. W. Martin, occupying the smaller one adjoining.
The first was built for Mr John Evans, and occupied for some years by him, but Mr Joseph Lamphier, who occupied the smaller, moved to Cwmavon, and both he and his sister (for he was a bachelor) rest in a grave there. My first visit to Mr John Evans’ house was when he resided at Gwernllwyn Isaf. His brother, Thomas, lived near, and also the rector, Rev Thomas Jenkins. There was also a school there – small, very small in comparison with the present, but there it was.
A short way further, and the Ivor Works are come to, but a road crosses leading up to the houses behind the works. These were built just after the starting of the works in ’33 or ’39, and several of them were the quarters of the military stationed there after the Chartist Riot at Newport. The captain had been abroad, and brought a coloured nursemaid back. This girl was was an object of curiosity to the tip girls, and, they being so much so, took an opportunity of inspecting if that was actually the colour of her skin beneath her clothes.
Instead of turning to the right, if we turned left we should be on the continuation of the road which is mentioned as turning up the side of the Dowlais Inn. Proceeding along this, we come to the stables on one side and the Market House on the other. The church is a short distance further on the same side as the stables.
With the introduction of the railways, no doubt there has been some improvement, but the impression yet existing is that there is more squalor – perhaps less care for appearances. That some feeling of this kind did exist is shown by what was done when a great personage was there.
There was a large order for rails in the market, and the high position of the firm stood them in good stead. To understand my meaning, it is proper to state the town residence of Sir John Guest (8 Spring Gardens) was celebrated; it was here the episode of the balance-sheet took place as described in Roebuck’s “History of the Whigs”. The order was secured, and a Russian prince was coming to see the works. Between the entrance to the works, opposite the Bush and Dowlais House, on the left side of the road going up, were a lot of cottages. They were somewhat above the average at that time, but the gardens in front were not tidy, so Mawdesley, the engineer of the Ivor Works, was called on to design and erect an iron railing which was done.
To be continued at a later date…….
Merthyr’s Chapels: Moriah Chapel, Cefn Coed
Moriah Welsh Calvinistic Methodist Chapel, Cefn Coed
At the end of the 18th century a Mr Rowland Pugh came to Cefn Coed from North Wales. He became a member of Pennsylvania (Pontmorlais) Chapel, and in time became a deacon there.
Within a few years he started a Methodist Society in his own house at Cefn Isaf, Cefn Coed and as the cause grew it became apparent that a more suitable place of worship was required and the first Moriah Chapel was built in 1807. The congregation increased and a new chapel was built in 1830, and two branches were established that became Bethlehem Chapel, Caepantywyll and Carmel Chapel, Clwydyfagwyr.
By the 1880’s it became obvious that a new chapel was needed, so the chapel was again rebuilt and was opened on 21 March 1886. A small notice of the chapel’s reopening appeared in the Merthyr Express on 3 April 1886 which is transcribed below:
“MORIAH CALVINISTIC METHODIST CHAPEL
The Opening services of this chapel were held on the 21st and 22nd ult. when the Revs J Lewis, Cilgerran; T Davies, Treorchy and T C Phillips, Abercarn preached eloquent sermons to large congregations. Collections were made in each service towards the building fund which amounted to over £200. The church at Moriah now posess undoubtedly the neatest and prettiest place of worship in the place.”
In 1908 a controversy occurred. The minister at Moriah at the time, Rev D Watts-Lewis, officiated at the memorial service for Rev Dr Thomas Rees, former minister at Pontmorlais Chapel and a very eminent man in the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist Church. However, shortly after this he announced his intention to resign as minister of the chapel and the Calvinistic Methodist Church and join the Church of England. He was accepted into the Church of England in June 1908 and immediately became a curate at Skewen.
The membership at Moriah declined steadily after the Second World War, and by the mid 1960’s the chapel closed. The building was demolished in 1972.
The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 13
by Barrie Jones
Chapter X. Henry describes the searching system and discipline in Portland Prison.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 26th March 1910, page 11.
Chapter X
In this chapter I wish to deal with the searching system. A great deal has been said concerning this, but the practice is still carried on. What is more degrading than for a man to be forced against his will to undress, as naked, as he was born, and then submit to be examined. I can well remember a case some years ago. When we marched to the bathroom to go through the form a search. One man absolutely refused to take anything off beyond his over-clothing and boots, and when ordered to take his shirt off by one of the officers, he replied. “No, I have too much respect for myself to expose myself in that manner.” “Take them off,” said the officer, “or I will take them off for you.” Still he refused, whereupon other officers were summoned and they took him by force, and tore them clean from off his back. They then dragged him to the cells. The following day he was brought before the Governor, and sent to be tried before the Director on a charge of incitement to mutiny; and finally, he was awarded fifteen day’s bread and water, together with a forfeiture of ten week’s remission. It matters not whether it is a shovel, chisel, wheelbarrow, or a ladder that is missing, this system of searching is carried out, and in full view of officers and prisoners. The same thing goes on once a fortnight, in the convicts’ cells, where everything is overhauled from a piece of soap to a single sheet of paper. Should a convict happen to have more than one piece of soap, or more than his quantity of paper, or even a small loaf of bread over his day’s rations, he is at once reported and punished with bread and water, and other forfeitures. For instance, a needle; found in a convict’s cell or possession, is at once reported and the man punished. Sometimes convicts are obliged to place a button on one of their garments, and the way they do it is by making two small holes with a slate pencil, then tying the button with a piece of string. Even, this is considered a punishable offence, yet they are denied a needle to sew buttons on with.
I was once reported for having a small piece of soap in my pocket, when searched on parade, and for this I forfeited three days of my ticket of leave. Another convict was awarded three days’ bread and water, merely for feeding the sparrows through the ventilator of his cell window. For having a single spot of dirt or dust on any of his utensils, or to disarrange them or his bedclothes, or to neglect polishing up his shoes to perfection, a man is punished. An offence which is considered rather serious in convict prisons, but which, in the majority of cases, cannot always be avoided, is to be caught sleeping with the head covered up. Of course, it is considered unhealthy, but this is not the reason why this habit is prohibited. The night watchman has to look through each observation glass into the cell once every fifteen minutes during the whole of the night-watch, in order to see that the convict is safely within the cell. I can well remember one night a convict escaped through his cell window, and he so artfully arranged his mattress and pillow that when the officer looked into his cell the dummy appeared for all the world like the head of the convict, and he got clear away, in spite of the civil guards who were patrolling to and fro outside the prison walls. I remember being in the next cell to an old man who was nicknamed “Snorer” owing to the noise he made during sleep. One night he was watched by an officer, and when he was seen to have his head covered, the officer kicked his door and ordered him to remove his bedclothes from his head, remarking that if he caught him again he would report him to the Governor. He got three day’s bread and water. The man tried to defend himself by saying that he never knew that he was breaking the rules, neither was he aware that he had covered his head; but all the Governor said was, “A man of your age ought to know better.” The Director visits convict prisons once a month, for the purpose of listening to complaints, and to try convicts for serious offences. In recent years, instead of a Directors, a Visiting Committee have done this.
During my sentence of nine years, I have known over thirty officers who have been dismissed from the service for sleeping during night duty, and they often report a man every time they are on night duty, in order to throw off suspicion from themselves. One officer used to give tobacco to a convict for watching for him while he stretched himself on a mattress outside the convict’s cell door. When the convict heard the senior night officer coming through the doors he would just put his hand underneath the door, and give the officer a good shake to wake him. He would then quickly jump to his feet, when, like a flash of lightening, the mattress would disappear into the cell, and when the senior officer put his head into the hall doorway the officer would be ready with a salute and “All correct, sir.”
To be continued…
Potatoes
By Laura Bray
Following on from an earlier post, which discussed the scarcity of fish in 1943 (https://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=7863), the Merthyr Express of the same month (February 1943) printed a “potato plan”.
Potatoes were not rationed, as from 1939 farmers had been encouraged to increase potato production, and potatoes had also been a key message in the Dig for Victory campaign, with the caveat that they should be planted as part of the official cropping plan and not at the expense of other vegetables.
It is not surprising then that there was a lot of information available about innovative and interesting ways to cook potatoes.
The Express’s “Potato Plan” came up with five ways of using them:
- Serving potatoes for breakfast on three days a week
- Making your main dish a potato dish once a week
- Refusing second helpings of other foods, rather filling up on potatoes
- Serving potatoes in other ways than plain boiled
- Using potatoes to save flour by using one third potato, two thirds flour, a combination which could be used when making pastries, puddings and cakes. Potatoes were boiled or baked then mashed with a fork till they looked like flour and you were encouraged to cook them the day before or throw in a few extra when you were using the oven.
It seems that this advice was used by the Express from that provided by the Ministry of Food as the same photo and plan crops up in other papers from elsewhere in the country.
The message was clear: “Bread costs ships. Eat home grown potatoes instead” and it would appear that the Merthyr public did just that.