The Heritage and Culture of Merthyr Tydfil
Following on form the recent article about Penydarren Park, below is an excerpt from the Evening Express 115 years ago today….
Top Row:- Edwin C Dow (goal), Sam Wightman (left back), William Davies (right back), Samuel Houshall (half back).
Second Row:- George Churchill (left half), William Bromley (centre half), Peter Kelly (right half)
Bottom Row:- James Whittaker (outside left), Frank Pemberton (inside left), James Wootton (inside right), Alexander Tait (half back).
Today marks the centenary of the birth of Merthyr-born architect Dale Owen.
Ivan Dale Owen was born in Merthyr on 2 August 1924. He attended Whitchurch Grammar School and went on to the Welsh School of Architecture in 1941. War service between 1943 and 1946 – he was commissioned in the Royal Artillery – took him to the North-West Frontier of India.
After completing his professional training in Cardiff and at The Bartlett School of Planning in University College London, he went on to work in London and then for the Newport Borough Council Architects’ Department and the Cwmbran Development Corporation where he was instrumental in the redevelopment of the town. In 1954, he won a Fulbright scholarship to study at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, School of Architecture and Planning and Harvard Graduate School of Design as a research scholar.
He then spent over a year working for Walter Gropius’s practice, The Architects Collaborative, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He returned to Britain, where he became a senior architect/planner with William Holford & Partners in London, where he worked on plans for the reconstruction of London after the war. He returned to Wales with health problems and in 1958 was hired by Percy Thomas & Son as an associate in their Cardiff office.
In the mid-1960s, the colleges of the University of Wales were growing rapidly. Percy Thomas Partnership redeveloped the campuses at Swansea, Aberystwyth and Cardiff, where Owen’s economics tower was allowed to burst through the hallowed skyline of Cathays Park.
The new BBC Wales headquarters in Llandaff, Cardiff, was another major work of the 1960s. Owen recalled with delight his victory over penny-pinching bureaucrats in persuading the corporation to buy real Mies chairs for the reception area.
He valued quality over any issue of style, though he had little time for Post-Modernism and rigorously eschewed the folksy look when designing a new gallery block for the Welsh Folk Museum at St Fagan’s – he later extended the building in collaboration with his wife, Maureen (née Kelly), a fellow-architect, who he had married in 1964.
Between 1977 and 1979 he was the President of the Royal Society of Architects in Wales. In 1982, he served as High Sheriff of South Glamorgan, and he also served as Deputy Lieutenant of South Glamorgan. He retired from Percy Thomas Partnership in 1989.
After retirement from Percy Thomas Partnership he established his own architectural practice, Dale Owen Design, Architecture & Planning. In 1991, he became director of Cymric Building Preservation Trust until his death in 1997. Owen also sat on the RIBA (Royal Institute of British Architects) Council. He was also involved in the Civic Trust for Wales.
There is a memorial window to Owen and to his son who died in infancy in All Saints Church, Penarth. The window includes a depiction of Owen’s design for the bell tower and Great Hall of Aberystwyth University, in which it signifies the Heavenly City (right).
Selected works
From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today….
by Allan ‘Salty’ Jones
It was only when I was thinking about this short article that it dawned on me what a dramatic slump there had been in 1953 and 1954. Crowds of thousands in 1951 fell to a couple of hundred in 1954. I can remember the very successful manager being criticised for letting the all the team grow old together, and how he had failed to introduce some new blood into the team.
In 1954, when I was 10, we had a Welsh Cup replay game in mid-week at the Park against Llanelly. It was an afternoon kick-off because we had no floodlights, and I wanted to go to the game. My mother was adamant that I had to go to school which was just around the corner from my house. We were lining up to go back into school when my teacher, Mr Granville Davies, asked me why I was crying. I explained that Merthyr were playing in the Cup and my mother had insisted that I had to go to school. Being the kind-hearted man he was, he told me to go and tell my mother that it was OK for me to go to the game. I could not be seen for dust.
Neither Merthyr nor Llanelly were at their prime, and even to a young boy, Merthyr were playing badly. The small crowd was getting at our own players because they were losing, and then one of our players, Johnny Reed, who had signed from Gloucester City, broke his leg. The crack was heard all over the ground. This was the final straw for many of our supporters and they dwindled away as a cup exit looked inevitable. As they say, football is a funny game, and Merthyr took the match into extra time. The heroic ten players went on to win 3-2, in what was to me a life-long memorable game.
I continued to support the Martyrs with my brother every game up to about 1963, when I became Secretary and player of Horeb Chapel Youth F.C. in the local league. I held this position for 17 years and, as such, was unable to go to the Park for Saturday games, but I was there without fail for the mid-week fixtures, without doubt one of the most memorable of these for me was the first game under lights in about 1965. Harry Griffiths was the manager and he had gathered together and excellent team. Wimbledon were the visitors and although the game ended 2-2, it was a great game.
I will always remember one funny story of when Harry first came to us. He was introducing the trainer, and he introduced a man involved with the Welsh League side as Mr Billy Marvel. Quite a few present nearly choked as this was Billy’s nickname – his real name was Evans.
There were some dire times for the Club in the late sixties, and I can remember one occasion when we were really scraping the bottom of the barrel for a team to go to Rugby. I was asked if I would go, and I readily agreed although I fully appreciated my shortcomings. I think we were unluck to lose 7-0, but it was my claim to fame that I played Southern League football for the Martyrs. I also played for the Welsh League and I am proud of my record in that I scored in every game. Played one, scored one, and the famous venue was Swansea University.
In the early ‘80s I returned to the Park for all games, even though I had been appointed the Secretary of the Merthyr Tydfil Association Football League in 1984. My appointment was the consequence of the very sudden death of a man I held in the highest esteem. John V Bevan D.F.M. had been secretary of the League for 37 years at the time of his death, and I am certain that this record will never be surpassed.
The great seasons of the mid ‘80s to early ‘90s will always remain with me. Two Championship wins, the Welsh Cup success, and of course European football at the Park. The win over Atalanta must rank with the very best and the trip to Bergamo for the return leg holds unforgettable memories. Since then, there have been more troubled times, but I hope that the wheel of fortune is going to turn our way in the future.
Do you have any memories of Merthyr you would like to share? It doesn’t have to be about sport – it could be about anything you like – school, work, chapel, church, play. Anything you would like to share, please get in touch at merthyr.history@gmail.com
by Allan ‘Salty’ Jones
It was as a seven-year-old boy in 1951 that I first made my way to Penydarren Park to see the Martyrs. Together with my younger brother Grenville and my father, we would either walk the short distance from Penydarren or catch the bus to the Theatre Royal. We would then join the large crowd on the Promenade and gain entry to the ground at the Theatre end.
Sometimes, manning one of the turnstiles would be my uncle, John Rees (right). John, a remarkable man, was also the club’s groundsman. He did his job despite having two artificial legs from just below the knee. Penydarren Park at this time was a very heavy venue and I can picture, even now, my uncle forking the ground to remove the excess water and his artificial legs would be sinking into the mud. To have an uncle who was in the inner sanctum of the Club used to make me feel very proud.
We used to watch the games from the Theatre end, sitting on the wooden fencing behind the goal. My father used to go a little way back into the crowd. The atmosphere was terrific, which was particularly caused by the great success the club had achieved during the late ‘40s and its continued success. I cannot remember seeing the great Bill Hullett play, but the side I can still picture vividly is:- Sellick, Avery, Phillips, Lloyd, Lowe and Richards, Davies, Squires, Reynolds, Jarman, Powell.
We were always playing football in the streets as there were not many cars around. On home days, Stan Davies the right wing of the above team, used to walk through the street carrying his boots in a small bag, on his way to Penydarren Park. One of our heroes walking through my street! Not long after, another of Merthyr’s famous football sons used to walk through my street to play for the Town. Ronnie Skyrme used to live in the next street, Church Street, and it was always a thrill to see him walking to a game. Ronnie was later transferred to Tonbridge.
On returning home from the match, we would again go out to play football. Some of the players would have a distinctive way of wearing their kit, and in our own innocent way we would try to copy them. We would give ourselves their names and shout for example, “Good shot Dego” (Trevor Reynolds’ nickname) or “Well saved Bert”, for Bert Sellick and “What a goal Shenkin”.
I could go on for quite a while reminiscing about this team but suffice it to say that who can forget the silky skills of Squires, Jarman and Dai Lloyd; the thunderous shot of Shenkin Powell and the sliding tackles of Ralph Avery. Two reserve players also come to mind from this era: Des Jackson, who I believe came from Glynneath, a village in which my father worked for 50 years in the coal mine. The other was Andy Mulgrew, a little Irish winger, and the much bigger Trevor Reynolds used to look after him like a father.
There were some great derby games at that time, for example Hereford United, and I can remember the big Aberfan born and Welsh Amateur international Gwyn Groves playing so well for them in goal. Another famous Merthyr man appeared in the Hereford team at this time – Cyril Beech. Cyril later went on to become a very successful scout, and amongst his discoveries were John Hartson and Mark Pembridge. Gloucester City, Worcester City and Bath City were always hard-fought games, and I can remember on one occasion the great Charlie Fleming turning out for Bath City. What games!
And what about the Welsh teams? Lovells Athletic with Ray Cross in goal and George Lowrie at centre forward; Barry Town and Llanelly were always keenly contested games, and ones which I like to think were never lost.
To be continued…..
From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today…..
From the South Wales Echo 130 years ago today….
From the Merthyr Telegraph 150 years ago today….
by Barrie Jones
Chapter XV. Henry recounts a personal experience of the search system.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 30th April 1910, page 11.
Chapter XV
Marching from the stone quarry at Portland back to the prison one day, I noticed that a whispered consultation was going on in the rear of the party between the Principal warder and the officer in charge, and I suspected that myself and one or two of the others, were the victims of this conspiracy, which was just beginning to ripen into action. As soon as ever we reached the parade, instead of marching straight to our usual place, the order was to march straight to the bathroom. Of course, we all knew then that meant a special search, for some convict, in order to curry favour, had been doing a bit of informing during the morning. They took us all by surprise. Now it happened at the time that I carried an ounce of thin “snout” (tobacco) in the waist band of my breeches, so I said within myself, “what on earth am I to do now, find it they surely will.” However, luck was in my favour that day, thanks to my presence of mind, and no thanks, but bad luck, I say, to the man who gave the information. One by one we filed into the empty bathroom, and I stepped down into my bath.
“Take off your boots, first,” said the officer, “Right you are,” says I, trying to shake off my nervous sensations. As soon as I unlaced my boots I proceeded to unbutton my jacket, and all the time my heart was pounding so fast that I was afraid it would damage my ribs. I then took off one boot at a time, and I threw it right into the middle of the passage. Quite naturally, and exactly what I expected, the officer turned round to pick up the boot to see what was in the inside, and, like a flash of lightning, I whipped out the “snout” from my waistband, and dropped it at my feet, saying at the time, “Shall I take off my leggings next, sir?” “No,” says he, “let me have the other boot first,” which I gave to him at the same time planting my foot on the tobacco. I then took off my garments one by one, until I was as naked as the very first time I saw the lights of Cyfarthfa. After waiting for the space of five minutes he shut the door and departed, when I picked up my “snout,” bit a chew off, and smiled contentedly, at the event. Thus, I escaped what would otherwise have been a serious report, followed by fifteen days bread and water. My heart went back to its normal beat again. The moral of thus is, never allow your right hand know what the left is doing, for no matter how careful a man can be, there are others, and those who sometimes pretend to be your best friends, who will put you away just for the sake of a smile and a little favouritism.
It is not so much the officers themselves who find these things out, for, like the policeman or the commonly called expert detective, their scent comes by information received, Thus, they obtain their promotion not by their own cleverness, but by the help given them from the criminal class.
To be continued….
From the Evening Express 120 years ago today….
