Tag: Merthyr Express

Merthyr Memories: The Lamb Inn

by Alun Morgan

Fifty years ago today one of Merthyr’s most famous and iconic pubs, The Lamb Inn, closed its doors for the last time. To mark the anniversary Alun Morgan has shared some of his memories.

The Lamb Inn was located at the corner of Castle Street. Its distinctive black and white façade shared with the premises next door, the very popular B Harris Jones Children and Ladies clothes shop. Both fell, alongside other attractive and historic buildings, to the large-scale town centre redevelopment being undertaken by Merthyr Borough Council in the late 60s and early 70s. Another example of this was the Bee Hive, the cosy little pub opposite the Lamb, run by Mr and Mrs Mittel, Owen Money’s parents.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The Lamb was one of Merthyr’s best known and popular pubs; it appealed to a very wide age and occupational range, as well as supporters of politics across the spectrum. There was no television nor juke box in the bar so conversation was almost compulsory. Despite the very varying opinions of customers this only very rarely became heated and personal. The Bar was ‘men only’ while women were able to use the cosy Snug and the side room, where there was a rather ancient television.  By the early 1970s the once handsome bar had been somewhat spoiled by removal of a semi-partition and paint that did not blend with the furniture.

‘John the Lamb’. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

However, it still generated a vibrant atmosphere and thirsty customers well-served by the owner John Lewis (John the Lamb) , his son, Peter, Jimmy Ryan, Bert (can’t recall his surname) and Jenkin Powell. Jenkin is widely recognised as one of the greatest footballers to have played for Merthyr FC, he also ran the Brunswick pub. I think John had taken over the Lamb in the early sixties, from Mr Walsh, a very widely respected landlord.

The pub’s reputation extended far beyond Merthyr and a photograph of it formed the cover of an album, The Green Desert by the Hennessey’s; the album featured songs, poems and ballads by Harri Webb, one of Wales’ best known poets and one of the Lamb’s many regular customers. The pub also ran a very good Sunday rugby team, under the experienced guidance of ‘Captain’ Syd Hill. One of its final fixtures was, ironically on a Saturday, in the Gwendreath Valley, Carmarthenshire, accompanied by vociferous travelling support.

The Lamb Rugby Team. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The Lamb closed its doors for the last time on April 1, 1973; it was demolished shortly after. With its men-only bar perhaps it was already out of sync with the way society was developing. Nonetheless it was greatly missed by many. I vaguely recall the editorial in the Merthyr Express of the week after. I think it stated something along the lines of ‘Merthyr is not the same without The Lamb’. Few at the time would disagree.

Does anyone else have any memories that they would like to share? Any Merthyr-related memories will be most welcome. If so please get in touch at merthyr.history@gmail.com

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 4

by Barrie Jones

Chapter III (continued) recounts Henry’s nine-month probationary stay in Exeter Prison and his attempt at escape.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 12th February 1910, page 12.

Chapter III (continued)

In the morning I awoke to learn that I was only to remain there three weeks, when I would be transferred to Exeter Prison, a convict receiving depot, to serve nine months’ probation, to make me fit, as the warder put it, ready for a convict prison. The day came when I was to be escorted to Exeter Prison, and my heart nearly changed places with my brain to think that I was to leave the home of my childhood for three long years, but, as there is a certain amount of courage even in a crowd, I consoled myself with the thought that some day I would be free. A thought struck me, supposing I would have a try to slip the handcuffs off, as they had placed a rather large pair on small hands, with that thought still in my mind, I said to myself, “If I failed to escape on the journey, I would have another try at the prison”. All my determinations were shattered, and I had to pay dearly the price of my attempt. All being ready, I was conveyed to the railway station, where I waved good-bye to my dear old mother, who stood weeping on the platform. I was hurried into the train, and soon I left dear old Wales far behind. In the meanwhile, I was trying to force the handcuffs from my wrists, but without success, as I was too carefully watched to do it with comfort.

A few hours elapsed ere I arrived at Exeter Prison, and once again I had to leave the outside world, Again, I was hurried into the “reception”, where I was supplied with another suit of khaki, but instead of trousers, this time I was given knickerbockers, and after listening to a sermon by the warder, who had trained himself to perfection in bouncing, I was taken up to another part of the prison, and located on a ward, known as A3. It was A1 to me. The cell in which I was confined had a great vent along the wall underneath, the window showing signs that it had been tampered with. I said to myself. “Ah, someone has been having a try to escape here, and I begin where he had left off”, but, I was not going to run my head right into it, for I must, first of all, make observations as to the systemmatical way in which the prison was worked, such as the routine of patrols, night watchmen, and so forth. All went well for about six months, when one day I picked up a piece of sharp iron out on the exercise ground, and, unnoticed by the warder, I swagged it into my cell with me, and for about three months I was picking and scraping underneath the bricks, until at last I managed to loosen six of them, taking care each night to plaster them up with whitening so as to make them look like the whitewashed walls.

I fixed to time to escape for a Saturday night in the beginning of August 1896. About midnight I listened attentively for any sound I might hear in the prison, and, satisfying myself that all was well, I took up my iron, and with my blankets all ready to descend to the ground, I suddenly gave two or three sharp knocks and out fell the bricks, but I scarcely before I had the time to get through the hole, I heard the key of a warder unlock the cell door, and two of them came rushing in, made a dash, and, drawing their kosh (batons) they pummelled me right and left. I offered no resistance, but they kicked and knocked me about, then flung me into the condemned cell which happened to be vacant at the time, and there I was left until the following Monday morning when I was brought before the Governor, who ordered me to be tried before the Visiting Committee for attempting to break out of prison. I was asked if I had anything to say, being the usual matter of form question put to prisoners by the authorities of the prison. I replied that I had not. I, of course, admitted the offence, but asked the magistrates if the officers were justified in using violence towards me in the manner in which they had done, as I made no attempt to resist when discovered. They referred me to the medical officer, and, in short, I was tied to the triangle, and flogged. Three days afterwards I was transferred to Dartmoor Convict Prison.

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.

But there is another matter that contributed to that end both for them and other ironmasters too. With the dawn of the railways the public were diffident of investing, and the issue of bonds was a neccessity for the ready obtaining of rails. These were generally issued at discount, say as an example, a bond for £100 for ten tons of rails at £8 per ton. The cost of the rails would be, perhaps. £6, so that the iron master, if in a position to do so, would receive say £100 for £60 worth of his product. Bankers would advance upon the deposit of such bonds, and, in consequence, enough money would be obtained to carry on the same cycle of operations.

It must not be thought that the railway company, on the one hand, or the ironmaster on the other, were dealing in hundreds only. One deal may be for ten thousand tons of rails, and if not able to make and deliver the full amount within the specified time, he contracted with other and, perhaps, smaller makers for some portion. The ironmaster, taking the original contract, would thus become an iron merchant, and pay cash or some other mode of payment as may be arranged. Wages were paid in cash, and it may be that a part was arranged by acceptance.

In order to show the difficulty in obtaining money for the making of railroads, let me remind you readers that the £100 Taff Vale share was for sale at £30 at one time, and it was only some five or six persons who made the Aberdare branch from Navigation to Aberdare – the public declined to take shares, Mr C H James told me – but those who ventured have one of the best railway investments, for it was leased to the Taff Vale Railway Company at an increasing rate, 10 percent being obtained in three years, and so to continue in perpetuity.

 

To be continued at a later date.

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 3

by Barrie Jones

Henry’s first taste of long imprisonment was in November 1895 when together with Thomas Lewis and David Davies, his ‘old schoolmate’, he was tried for ‘feloniously and burglariously entering the dwelling house and pawn shop of Samuel Fine, Troedyrhiw’. The assizes Judge, Justice Lawrence, ruled that there was no evidence of burglary against Henry and David Davies, instead they were tried on the second count of receiving stolen property, knowing it to have been stolen. All three offenders were treated the same and they were each sentenced to three years’ penal servitude.

Penal servitude, which had replaced transportation, consisted of separate confinement in silence and hard labour, and was only given in exceptional circumstances. However, theft of property coupled with recidivism, was likely to impose penal sentences. It is likely that Henry and his two accomplices did not realise the full consequence of their sentences, on hearing the verdict they left the dock laughing.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 12th February 1910, page 12.

Chapter III

One glass too much very often brings with it one step further, for when once a man has met misfortune, it is not a very easy thing to get on in the world. Once he is stamped with the prison taint, it is all up with him. He may, after the first, second, or third time, try to amend his ways, but there are others who make it their business to inform his employers who he is, what he is, and where he has been. This is done chiefly by the police, and what is the result? Well, it can all be put in a nutshell: The unfortunate man’s employers having learned his history, tells him in a mild sort of way that he requires his services no longer. Thus, he is thrown out of honest employment. Is there any wonder then that the poor wretch falls back again into crime?

I was tried at the Cardiff Assizes in the year 1895, having been accused of taking part in a robbery which I knew nothing at all about, and simply because I was found in possession of a certain article, I was deemed guilty, and sentenced to three years’ penal servitude. Even if I had committed the crime, such did not merit the sentence passed upon me. I acknowledged that I was guilty of receiving, but the law takes it that the receiver is worse than the thief. Again, it is not because of the nature of a crime brought against a man that he receives such a heavy sentence, but simply because he has been previously convicted; thus, a heavy sentence is passed upon him on the strength of his previous convictions. I have in mind the case of a man who stood accused of murder. The crime, no doubt, was of a very bad nature, but even if the man had committed the crime the law was not justified in passing the capital sentence upon him for there was not sufficient time allowed for inquires to be made into the state of his intellect.  After he was hanged it leaked out that the man was insane at the time. Many a man has been hanged and after his execution the right man has given himself up and confessed to having committed the crime.

After being tried, found guilty, and sentenced to penal servitude, I was escorted back to Cardiff Prison in the “Black Maria”, but before proceeding any further, I will endeavour to give readers an idea of what his Majesty’s vehicle is like. It is something similar to a hearse, or more like a gaol on wheels. There are twelve separate cells in the interior, and they are so small that one has to wriggle himself up like a snake in order to get into them. I sometimes think that if this van could speak, it could tell how it had carried many a murderer to hear his last sermon. The cells at the Town Hall are a little larger, but not very well ventilated. There is netting overhead, giving the prisoners a close resemblance to a pack of wild beasts. The lions at the Zoological Gardens are far better accommodated. I was escorted in this cramped position back to Cardiff Prison, where I was hurried below into a place known as the “reception”, where I was waited upon by a warder, who quickly exchanged my navy-blue serge for a brand new suit of khaki. He afterwards proceeded to weigh me, take my measurement, and take my marks. He was not a bad sort of a man, and always ready with few words of kindness to a poor wretch – for, you know, after a man has been so long in prison, it is considered a very dangerous thing to exhibit any little feeling of sympathy towards him for a kind word under those circumstances has killed many a poor prisoner. He then locked me up, and gave me a bit of good advice to sleep upon.

To be continued…..

Entertainment in Merthyr

Youngsters today might be surprised that there was a time, not a million years ago, when Merthyr was a hub of all kinds of entertainment: several cinemas showing a variety of films, plays being performed by both professional and amateur companies at several venues – not to mention live music at several ‘night spots’.

Below is just an example of what was regularly on in Merthyr – all of these adverts appeared in a single issue of the Merthyr Express 70 years ago today, 21 February 1953…

The above is just a small example of what was going on in Merthyr – there was something new happening every week somewhere up and down the borough. How times have changed.

Do you have any memories of going to any of these places? If so, please share any memories with us.

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 2

by Barrie Jones

Chapter II covers Henry’s account of his first encounter with the law and his imprisonment in October 1892, aged sixteen years. In fact, Henry’s life of crime had commenced from the age of thirteen years, and this was not his first experience of Swansea Gaol. Perhaps his long list of crimes had confused him or that this account made a better storyline. His old schoolmate Dai was David Davies, who would feature in more serious criminal escapades with Henry in the future.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 5th February 1910, page 9.

Chapter II

After the accident to my head at the Cwm Pit Colliery, for five months I was idle and dependent upon on the support of my father, who was fast approaching old age. There was no such thing as a Miners’ Federation at that time, but only an accident fund, and the widow of a man killed underground only received ten shillings per week, and not even then unless the collier contributed towards the fund. Of course, that had nothing at all to do with me, as I was employed by the miners and not by the company, and it was the miners’ duty to pay the accident fund for me, and to deduct it from my wages. I was too young to know this at the time, otherwise I could have claimed compensation; consequently, I received absolutely nothing.

I was not going to see my father working himself to death to support me any longer, so one day, still suffering from the effects of my injuries, I set out to seek employment. I wandered towards the South Pit Colliery, near Troedyrhiw, but I had not gone very far before I met an old schoolmate of mine, Dai ____. Now Dai was a bold fellow. Although a good-hearted chap, he cared not for anyone. He hailed me with “ullo Harry, where are you off to?” “I am going to look for a start at the South Pit,” says I. “Well, come along Harry,” say he, “I happen to be out of work too: let us try together for a place on the coal.” So we reached the pit just as the manager was coming up, and we applied for a job, but no luck, for the place was full up.

Then Dai turned to me, saying, “What do you say, Harry, in doing a bit of crook?” (for Dai ____ had already made a great rent in his character). “Are you game?” says he, “game enough,” says I. So in returning towards Merthyr, we wandered towards the Field Pit Colliery, and once again we applied there for work, but the same as usual, it was full up. Then Dai says, “Let us go around to have a warm by the boilers,” for it was rather cold at the time. On going round, we passed the back of the miners’ lamp-room, when we happened to notice that a part of the zinc roof had been torn away and some of the lamps upon the shelves were visible. We put our hands in and made the shelves lighter by half-a-dozen, and with the aid of a file we managed to rub out the letters “P C” (which meant Plymouth Company), and which came off the oil pots in filings of brass. We then took them to several pawnbrokers, where we pledged them at half-a-crown and three and sixpence apiece. After enjoying ourselves with the reapings we returned to the lamp-room for some more; but just as Dai was drawing forth another lamp, out sprang a policeman and pounced upon him. Well, you know the rest. To make it brief, we were both brought before the “beaks,” and finally escorted to Swansea Gaol for one month.

On our arrival at the prison, after answering several questions to the chief turnkey, we were taken below to a place called the reception room, where a sturdy warder eyed me from head to foot, remarking, “You are starting rather young nipper.” Turning to Dai, he said, “You have brought a fresh mate with you this time, Dai. “We are quite innocent,” replied Dai, “Yes, you look innocent,” replied the turnkey, “if the kid doesn’t” (what would he say if he saw the kid now?). Then he proceeded to weigh me and take my measurement, and after fitting me, or trying to fit me with a dirty suit of khaki large enough for a man, he locked me in a cell. After making an examination of my surroundings, I broke down and cried, until I made the place quite damp with my tears. My thoughts were of “Home, Sweet Home.”

I was not long engaged in pumping water from my system before the turnkey came and unlocked the cell door, holding in his hand half a tin of skilly, which he called porridge, and eight-ounce dark brown toke (loaf). “Here you are,” says he, “let your tears drop into this, and you will fill the tin.” “I cannot eat it sir,” says I. “Oh, you will eat it,” says he, “before you have done your month,” and he was right too, for before I had been in goal a week, I was looking for more to eat. I happened to leave one of my small loaves on my self one day, when I was on the treadmill, but when I came in it had gone. When the turnkey brought me three pounds of oakum to pick, I asked him where my bread had gone to. Throwing down the oakum, he replied, “I suppose one of the birds has picked it.” Getting a bit bolder, and my tears being a thing of the past, I turned sharply upon him, and said, “The birds have picked it, have they? Then the birds can pick this oakum,” and I kicked it flying out of the cell. He then brought me before the Asinorum (governor), and the functionary awarded me three days bread and water. Thus the turnkey was beginning to know me, and he cooled down wonderfully well. The day of my discharge came round, and I was let out into the wide world again to fight another battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil.

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.

Mr William Davies was the forge and mill manager at Cyfarthfa, and Mr John Jones, the furnace manager at Ynysfach. Mr Wiltshire was the vet or farrier (for the Veterinary College had not so many members then), but others also occur to me in other spheres of labour.

John Pritchard was the weigher on the top of the yard (approaching Gellideg). He was the father of the Dr Pritchard many of your readers may recall, living in High Street, opposite Glebeland Street. There was also a weigher at Ynysfach yard some few years later whose name I wish to mention; it was John Morgan, and his contributions to the mathematical part of the Gentleman’s Magazine of that time is ample evidence of his knowledge.

Possibly some of the descendents of those mentioned yet exist, and may read this – some can be recalled. Mr Davies, the mill manager had two daughters, one became Mrs John James (draper). Mr James married a Miss Kirkhouse, Llwyncelyn, an elder sister (half sister really) of the Rev Howell Kirkhouse. I do not think they had a family; nor can I recall either of Mr Jones’ brothers – William, who went to North Wales; or Charles, who went to London – having any; perhaps he (Charles) made up for it by becoming the secretary of the Welsh Girls’ School at Ashford.

William Crawshay II by an unknown artist. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

At the present time, when ‘combines’ for trade purposes are rife, and ever and anon a paragraph appears respecting what Mr Robert Thompson Crawshay said he would have done of the workmen had fallen in with his views, perhaps it may be appropriately state what Mr Wm. Crawshay did do in order to meet the varying conditions of demand for produce.

No matter what the marketable produce may have to be – whether bars, rails, sheets or slit rods – all were made from puddled bars rolled to 3 and 3½ inches wide and one-half to five-eighths thick; these were all cut when hot to suit the length of the ‘pile’, as a rule these may be about 18 inches only. After being cut to the length they were taken to an open place – there was one in front of what was afterwards erected and called the Pandy Mill – where they were packed up in the form of a shed, with the roof on, say 16 feet or 18 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 10 feet to the commencement of the slope forming the roof. The weight of one of these ‘houses’ would be about 500 tons. In very bad times, many of these would be built; I think as many as twenty have been seen at one time at the spot indicated, besides others elsewhere, so that there was a stack of 20,000 tons ready for working off when the demand required.

The value of a ton of puddled bars varied from £3 up, so that if 20s were added to the value, there was a virtual profit of about 30 percent on the full amount. Tin-plate manufacturers work for stock occasionally, and the pig-iron manufacturers can deposit their produce and obtain an advance thereon, but rail makers, or bar-iron makers cannot do so to a great extent. In the one case, because of the section, on on the other, the difficulty of avoiding the oxidation. Is it any wonder that the Crawshays are wealthy?

“Cyfarthfa Ironworks at Night” (1825) by Penry Williams. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery

To be continued at a later date.

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 1

by Barrie Jones

This is a transcript of the serialisation of Henry William’s life of crime and his terms of imprisonment, titled The Dark Side of Convict Life, covering a total of twenty-three chapters in editions of the Merthyr Express from the 29th January 1910 to the 2nd July 1910. Henry’s prison records mark him as one of ‘imperfect’ education and the serialisation’s grammar suggests that the account of his criminal career was in part ‘ghosted,’ probably by a journalist at the Merthyr Express. Further research into Henry’s early life and details of his crimes and court judgements, show that Henry omitted or glossed over some aspects of his life of crime. Also, his life of crime extended well beyond the date his ‘memoir’ was written.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 29th January 1910, page 12.

Introductory

My Dear Readers, – It is my sincere desire and wish that all those who have taken a wrong step in life will check, before it is too late, their evil courses, which is certain in the end to bring them to destruction. I do not for one moment, dear readers, accuse you of wrongdoing. God forbid! But to quote the words of the Bible: “Watch, lest ye also fall into condemnation.” It is a very easy thing to get into trouble. But, oh! how hard it is to wipe off the stains. We not only disgrace ourselves, but also our innocent loved ones. I do not think there is a single soul on God’s earth who has not experienced trouble of some description or other. Some people’s troubles are greater than others; some sins are more serious than others, but they are all considered equal in the sight of God, but, as it says in Holy Scripture, “Though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool.” Therefore, I wish to give you an insight into my own past life, of what nature sin is, and how far it will go to spoil our happiness. In my narrative I will relate the sufferings of poor unfortunate, shall I say pieces of humanity, and the things practised within the walls of our British Convict Prisons, hoping not to weary my readers too much.

Chapter I.

My sole object of choosing the “Dark Side of Convict Life” as the title of my narrative, is simply because I know of no bright side to the life of a poor convict. To begin with, I was once the son of a middle-class boot and shoe manufacturer, and my father was well known within the circle of influential tradesmen as a keen man of business. When I was a little lad rumours had been floating about that he was the heir to an extensive estate, which ultimately fell into the hands of the now Viscount Lord _______. Measures were adopted to restore the estate, but without success, as the will, somehow or other, had been buried or burned. Thus, fate was against father as it has since been against me. When I was not much more than three years of age I was sent to the Cyfarthfa Infants School, and after going through my course there as a child, I was transferred to the Georgetown Board School. I had a very good master, Mr. Jones by name, and a thorough gentleman; a man who knew how to work a school without a great deal of trouble with his pupils. He was also well respected, and well-liked by parents of lads placed under his care. Some of these old schoolboys are now men of position in the world, and some have drifted downwards like myself; but it was not for want of care and attention. Mr. Jones always did his best to bring us up as men, and apart from his teaching he trained us in physical drill. Some people are too apt to believe that the condition of a man is due to his brining up in the past, but nothing of the kind, for no matter how a lad has been brought up it does not follow that he will continue that course all through life.

Some people are born to be unfortunate, and I am one of those unfortunates. Still, it says in the Bible that “The rod and reproof giveth wisdom, but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.” Now, that is quite the opposite in thousands of cases, Still further it says, “Correct thy son, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” That is quite correct, but have I not been corrected? When I was young was I not brought up in the midst of Christianity? Yes, I was but I departed from it. Yes, I am sorry to say I have, but it was not for the want of trying to do better, for I really have tried to live down the past, but I have been overtaken each time by misfortune. As General Booth says in his book on “Darkest England,” “That he believes there is a certain time for the turning point in each man and woman’s life, and I believe that time has come for me.”

I left school at the age of thirteen, and although not very classical, I managed to learn my three “R’s”. My mother then placed me with a well-known Merthyr chemist, but I did not use the pestle and mortar very long before I showed signs of a longing for more active work. In short, I wanted to work in the pits, but my mother had such a dread of the coal mine that she would not think of allowing her pet boy (for such I was considered that time) to go to work underground, for she had seen so many during her life carried home killed. My father said, “Let the lad go to work in the pit, it will make a man of him.” But, in the end, it nearly made a corpse of me. My mother had to give in, and before very long I was equipped ready to start as a collier boy. I was not long working underground before my dear old mother’s fears were realised. I was working with a miner by the name of William Haman in the six feet seam at the Cwm Pit Colliery, and one day I was engaged upon my knees filling the coal box when suddenly without the slightest warning, part of the roof gave way, and a large stone about two tons came crashing down within a foot of me. Fortunately for me it only struck the box, but the box tamped up, and dealt me a violent blow on the head, tearing back with its sharp edge nearly half my scalp. I at once fell unconscious to the ground, and when I awoke I found myself at home and in bed all bandaged up, the doctor having sewn my head right round from ear to ear. It was one of the narrowest escapes known to have occurred in a coal mine, for if I had been one foot further in towards the sea I should have been smashed beyond recognition. This was only the beginning of my troubles.

To be continued…..