EDDLEHURST HOUSE.

EDDLEHURST HOUSE.
Written by Wilma Bolton.
Cosy Corner at Mill Road, Wilma Bolton..JPG
 
Above is a photograph of what the road just before the Cosy Corner, Mill Road, Hamilton used to look like before the road was widened by the removal of the site of the old Cadzow Colliery mineral railway line.
 
The walls show the entrance to what we called Laighstonehall House. Originally known as Eddlehurst it had been built for rich Glasgow Merchants (there were another 5 merchants houses further up the Mill Road four at the Bush Park) and one next to Laighstonehall House which we called McAffer’s house which was big and scary, the family who lived there in the 1940/50s sold tomatoes from their greenhouses.
Eddlehurst House1.JPG
There was also Chantinghall House further down the road. The Glasgow merchants had built these houses in the country to get away from the dirt and smog of Glasgow and then came the coal mines with all their workers and black smoke right on their doorsteps. They were absolutely surrounded by coal mines. That was not all, the houses started subsiding from the underground workings.
 
The Glasgow merchants moved out and Watson the Coal master bought them and let them to his managers with the exception of this one as his son and heir lived at this property at one time (must have been before it really subsided). As a wee girl, I used to play with a girl called Preece who lived in it and the floors were so uneven I felt seasick when walking in it. You were either walking uphill or downhill.
Eddlehurst2.JPG
 
Laighstonehall House was built on the site of the old mill (Mill Road got its name from it) which once stood there. The lade can still be seen in the burn just up from the Cosy Corner.
There are two of the merchant’s houses still standing, one on Mill Road, across from the back of St Anne’s school. Known locally as “The Majors” after a major who lived there many years ago. Its real name is Ivy Grove and it was at one time the property of a lawyer called Hay. It is a lovely house but has historic subsidence damage. The other one is at Graham Avenue and it was the South Church Manse for many years. It is now privately owned.
 
The narrow road down to the Cosy Corner had no lights and it was pitch black. I worked in Phillips factory and was really only a wee lassie (17) and had to go down it myself on a day shift. As it was half past five in the morning I used to take to my heels and run like a greyhound from the last house in Mill Road to the houses at Chantinghall. I was petrified as there was a flasher hanging about in the trees. A female police officer (Laura Thorburn) who was Hamilton’s first female detective used to walk this road in an attempt to catch him.
 
Laura was a tall slim blond and he would have spotted her a mile away so she never did catch him.
 
Below is the approximate site of the former Eddlehurst House.
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MILITARY SERVICE REGISTRATION. OVER 3000 MEN REPORT IN LANARKSHIRE.

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MILITARY SERVICE REGISTRATION. OVER 3000 MEN REPORT IN LANARKSHIRE.
 
Scotland provided 26,335 of the quarter-of-a-million men who registered throughout Britain last Saturday under the Military Training Act provisions. The age group, the fourth to register since compulsory military service was introduced comprised the following:
 
(1) men who have reached the age of 20 since December 1, 1939, but before January 1, 1940 (i.e. those born between December 2, 1919, and December 31, 1919, both dated inclusive) and
 
(2) men who have reached the age of 23 since December 31, 1938, but before December 2, 1939, (i.e. those born between January 1, 1916, and December 1, 1916, both dates inclusive.
 
Of the 26,335 registered in Scotland, Lanarkshire provided 3119. Enrolments at the various county Employment Exchanges were as follows (the figures of contentious objectors being given on parenthesis): Uddingston 137 (3) Shotts 254 (4) Cambuslang 235 (12), Motherwell 540 (13), Larkhall 306 (5) Airdrie 329 (12) Hamilton 420 (10), Coatbridge 391 (5), Wishaw 520 (9).
 
The total number of conscientious objectors was 66 or slightly over 2 percent. In the December registration of the 20-22 age group the total registrations were slightly less, 2966, while the conscientious objectors numbered 52, about 1.6 percent.
 
Among those registering last Saturday 453 preferred the Navy, 32 the Marines, and 11 the Navy or Marines, while 130 expressed a preference for Air Flying, 458 for air-ground service and 25 air flying or ground service. The remainder preferred Army service. Ref. Hamilton Advertiser. 24/2/1940. The article was Transcribed by Wilma Bolton and sent to Historic Hamilton.

OLD HAMILTON, FURTHERING THE SCHEME OF DEMOLITION. AN OUT-DATED FUE DISPOSITION.

Back Row.JPG

The following story was printed in The Hamilton Advertiser on the 21/1/1933 and was transcribed by Wilma Bolton.
 
Another old landmark in the town is fated to disappear within the next few days. A start had been made with the demolition of that angle of building behind the Public Library long known as Fore Row and Back Row.
 
For nearly 150 years these two rows of houses have been a conspicuous object, overlooking the Common Green from their loft perch, and as seen from Cadzow Bridge in these latter days, contrasting unfavourable with those palatial villas which adorn the slightly higher reaches of Cadzow Burn.
 
The fues for these houses now being removed were given off round about 1782. The superior was then John Campbell, of Saffronhall, Hamilton and some half- a-dozen pieces of ground were separately feud. In the fue disposition then granted in favour of the various feurs the ground is disponed with the liberty and privilege “of passing upon foot by the front of the said houses through a part of my said other ground to and from the Burn of Hamilton for water according as I shall lay off a road for the purpose, said passage to be shut up upon Sundays, and an hour after sunset every other day.”
 
Cadzow Burn was then a stream of some considerable utility in the town recourse being had to it not only for washing purposes but for domestic supply of drinking water. When the Fore and Back Rows were built, the site would be well on the outskirts of the town, and as dwellings, they housed in some instances citizens of status and substance.
 
In the Fore Row are three very characteristic Scottish houses with their steep roofs, stone skews and circular moulded club skews. But the house at the corner of Muir Street is particularly interesting. Architecturally it is an interesting little gem, with its projecting quoins, rusticated arched doorway, well-proportioned windows, stone cornice, Scottish dormer windows and stone ridge. The front wall has been cemented at some later date, but, in its original state when the stonework was exposed it must have been a very attractive and imposing front.
 
There is no date on but it appears to have been erected in the early eighteenth century. The design is not unlike the Parish Church which may indeed have provided the builder with some inspiration.
 
Latterly these 150 years old dwellings were adjudged to be wretched hovels, only fit for removal. A new block of Corporation houses is to be built on the site and the Dean of Guild as already approved of the plans.
 
Considerable improvement will be affected in Church Street by the demolition of the range of former dwellings between the two common lodging houses there—Greenside and Hamilton Home. Plans have been prepared for a new lot of houses on this site consisting of a block facing the street, and a hostel at the back overlooking the Common Green.
 
This will almost complete the very substantial scheme of improvement which wiped out the New Wynd, and which transformed Grammar School Square, Back o’ Barns and the Postgate.
 
Thus steadily is old Hamilton falling a victim to the modern conceptions of public health and housing.
 

WAITING ON THE BELLS, 1940-1980’s

WAITING ON THE BELLS, 1940-1980’s
By Wilma S. Bolton.
 
The custom of saying goodbye to the year that is drawing to its end and the traditional celebrations to welcome the arrival of the New Year is inextricably embedded in the soul of the Scot. As the old year departs taking with it with all our hopes and dreams, some of which have come to fruition and others perhaps not so successful, the optimists among us will once again start the yearly cycle filled with the eternal certainty that this is the year when life will take a turn for the better. Every generation is different and I can’t help noticing that today many men reduce the stress and pressure of the festive frenzy on their wives by sharing the cooking and cleaning chores. This welcome change is perhaps due to the fact that many women work.
russell-street-1920s-1-5
 
The impending arrival of the New Year heaped more responsibilities on the shoulders of women, for until the modern world liberated us with labour saving devices such as Hoovers, washing machines and tumble dryers, women were slaves to cooking and cleaning. Fridges were almost unheard of. We lived in a prefab in Mill Road and it had a gas one which came with the house and we also had our own bathroom. Most tenement buildings had outside toilets which were shared with neighbours. Hogmanay was a frantically busy time and women worked their fingers to the bone preparing for the arrival of New Year. There were no supermarkets then and women baked and cooked for hours to feed their families over the festive season. Plum puddings would have been made a few days before, but soup and steak pies were made on Hogmanay. The smell of cooking and baking which permeated throughout the house for most of the day bore witness to their hard work.
 
Tradition dictated that both the inside and outside of the home had to be shining from top to bottom. Windows had to be cleaned, brass letterboxes were polished with Brasso until they shone and all ornaments were washed. Fitted carpets were still in the future and instead there was a large carpet square in the middle of the floor, the edge of which stopped about eighteen inches from the wall and between its edge and the skirting board there was linoleum to be dusted and polished. Smaller carpet runners had to be taken outside and beaten with a cane carpet beater until all the dust had been removed. All bed linen had to be changed and there had to be no dirty clothes or linen waiting to be washed and all the ironing had to be done and put away.
 
The cleaning of outside stairs was sacrosanct and not just any old cleaning. The stairs had first to be swept clean and then down on your knees you went with a metal pail (no plastic then) containing bleach and water and you scrubbed away with a hard bristle scrubbing brush. After every mark and piece of dirt had been removed by sheer brute force, the stairs were rinsed with clean water and then dried down with an old rag. There were no rubber gloves then either and a great many women suffered pain and itch from dermatitis due to the exposure their hands got to cleaning products; my mother among them.
 
Not a scrap of household rubbish was allowed to remain inside the home. It would either be burned on the coal fire or removed to the metal dustbin out the back. Vegetable peelings and scraps were deposited into the brock bin to be collected by Andrew Ballantyne who boiled them in a massive cauldron hanging inside the fireplace of the Leigh Bent farm which stood just across from the gates of the Bent Cemetery. As the brock boiled it smelled like soup and the pigs loved it.
 
THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK. As the dying embers of the old year were fast fading away, the door of the house would be opened to let the old year out “then locked not to be opened again until “after the bells.” My mother Peggy Russell would by this time have laid out two trays covered with her lovely hand-embroidered cloths. The first tray would hold my dad’s bottle of whisky, ginger cordial for my sister and myself and for my mother, the same bottle of Bertola Cream sherry would make its New Year guest appearance and she would half fill a sherry glass and toast the health and wealth of our small family and then back into the cupboard went the bottle for another twelve months. My mother was 29 when she married and she had quite a good bank book which her sister my aunt Ella Lang kept for her and my father never knew of its existence, although he was a good husband and father. She used to say “never tell your right haun whit your left haun is daein.” She used the money to keep the wolf from the door when the pits were out on strike. She was really good at managing money and we had a secure and happy home life.
The second tray paid tribute to Peggy’s excellent baking skills with her home made shortbread and slices of sultana and cherry cakes. My sister and I could barely conceal our excitement waiting for the “bells.” On the stroke of midnight my father Jimmy Russell would open the kitchen window to let in the New Year and then he would hold me up to the window whispering “can you hear it?” and away in the distance through the still night air, came the unmistakable sound of the pit horn at Blantyre’s Dixon’s Colliery welcoming the New Year. In turn he would kiss my mother, my sister and myself and solemnly shake our hands wishing us a “Happy New Year” and my mum Peggy with her thick Aberdeen accent would hold up her glass of sherry and say “I wish ye all I wish myself and I couldna wish ye better.” The door was opened with the arrival of our first foot.
 
Now Jimmy was partial to a wee hauf of whisky and Peggy I must say, tried to make sure that was all he got for the bottle was destined to be drunk at the large family gathering at my Grandpa Lang’s house in Russell Street. If a man had a bottle of whisky at the New Year, then he was a happy man and if he had two, he was worth a few pounds or knew somebody with connections. My father knew everybody and occasionally managed to obtain a second bottle. Alcohol was expensive to buy and a bottle of whisky was a rare sight in our house except for very special occasions and the New Year came into that category.
 
In the early afternoon we would walk from 133 Mill Road to 73 Russell Street to join with our relatives in a lovely happy New Year’s day party. The women had all discussed what food they would bring with them and my mother’s job was to supply the plum puddings and some pies. The kitchen at Russell Street was tiny and I am sure that the table only sat four at the most, so we were fed in relays; adults first of course.
 
There would be much singing and telling of tales, reminiscing of old times and planning for the future. We kids had a ball and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. At the end of the night my Grandpa, Guy Lang lined all of us up and gave each and every one a 10/- note; a fortune in those days. By the time we had to go home my father of course like the rest of the men was quite merry. I can say however that despite the large numbers of people there, I never remember a cross word between any of them. It was always a big happy family party.
It wasn’t until I was an adult and had family of my own that I realised that most of my Lang cousins were in were in actual fact no blood relation, not that it made any difference. My father had been brought up across the road from them and my Granny Lang, a lovely woman had felt sorry for this family of five boys and one girl who had lost their mother while they were living in America and she was really good to them. My Grandpa Russell had brought them all back to Scotland on a troop ship in 1916 and my Granny Lang had played a hugely important part in their lives. Eventually my Uncle Guy Lang married my mother’s sister Eleanor Stewart, so Gavin, Stewart and Eleanor Lang were my full cousins and the others would have disagreed with anyone who said we were not theirs. Happy days…… Wilma S. Bolton. 2016. Ⓒ

IN MEMORY OF EARNOCK BING MY EVEREST.

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(THE LUGE)©©©
Part of the great Scottish heritage was the various “Bings” that were left following the closure of mines and pits throughout the country. I was born and brought up at the top of Hill Street in Burnbank, better known as the “Jungle” right at the bottom of Earnock bing, as a wee boy I looked on it as my own personal real estate. Many of the coal miners were pigeon fanciers (doo men) and had their loft out the backyard including my own dad which explains a wee bit the following tale.

The poem below was written by
THOMAS MATTHEW EDGAR MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA.2005.
AND WAS DONATED TO WILMA BOLTON. Wilma has kindly shared this for the Historic Hamilton readers to enjoy.
Corrugated iron—wae the ends turned up
Blint— wi stoure and shale
Fifty miles an oor at least
Anither on yer tail

Earnock bing my Everest
The biggest bing aroon
Ah climbed ye every day in life
The tallest in the toon,

Mony’s the time I fell aff the tap
Fae aff yer towr’n heights
Broken taes and fingers
Ah should be deid by rights

Cadzow bing it was’nae bad
But wis’nae near sae steep
Naewhere near the broken bones
Aw’right for grazin sheep.

Dae ye mind wee Wullie doon the road
We put him in a tyre
Ah’m shair it wis aff a Chieftan bus,
An’ fae aff yer very spire,

We gied’m sich a hefty shove
He fell oot haufway doon
He staggert’ roon for hauf an oor
An roon n’ roon n’ roon,

As soon as he could staun at peace
He said “Christ that wiz great”
“Could we dae it agane jist wan mair time”
It wiz clear he could’na wait.

So intae the tyre again he went
This time we tied him in
An wi an even harder shove
We sent him for a spin.
Well “Tottie Minto’s” pigeon loft…
Ah’ ken ye’ve guessed already
It, wiz quite plain for aw tae see,
Even tae blind Freddy

Unhappy circumstances wid unfold
And mibbie even mair
A heid oan crash, a lot a stoure
An’ feathers everywhere

Deid doos deid as dodos
Died in their loft that day
Like road kill they aw’ lay aroon
Ah guess its fair tae say

We thought the wee block doon the road
Wi’ the doos had done his dash
Surprise, surprise, would ye believe,
Fae in amang the trash

A ghostly figure staggert’ oot
An roon n’roon n’roon
He said “Christ that wiz bliddy great”
Ah hope that very soon

“ We dae that agane jist wan mair time”
“This time ah’ll git it right”
at this point ye can guess the rest
its time to say guidnight

Dear Earnock bing where ur ye noo
Wherever did ye go
Scattered to the winds, ah think
Ah’ ken ah miss you so.

Oh Earnock bing my Everest,
It’s time to say fareweel
Ah won’t forget ye ever
Fareweel Fareweel Fareweel!!!!!

(A wee efter thought)
For those of nostalgic persuasion
Ah hope ye enjoyed my heart felt reminiscence
Of
Slidin doon ma Earnock Everest, Oan ma erse…….in verse.

Thomas Matthew Edgar.
Wilma Bolton. 2005.

CHARLIE’S CO VAN, 1950-60s.

 

CHARLIE’S CO VAN, 1950-60s.
By Wilma Bolton.
I am sure that there are still a good number of people around who will remember the co-operative van which for many years parked on waste ground beside the first council houses on the left hand side of Millgate Road. It was a mobile shop, sold all sorts of groceries, was staffed by Charlie Miller and universally referred to as Charlie’s Co van. My Aberdonian mother Peggy Russell used to send me up to buy potatoes and Charlie would weigh them on large scales using big brass weights and then transfer them into the old leather shopping bag she kept for potatoes. On arriving home Peggy inspected the contents to see how much “dirt” the bag contained. If there was too much dried earth attached to the potatoes, she would remove it and send me back up to the van to ask Charlie to give me the same weight in potatoes. Mortified I was and would have done anything but go back up. I looked everywhere but his face when passing on her message, but in retrospect, I don’t blame her, for the potatoes were more or less straight from the fields and could be covered in dried clay with the odd heavy stone mixed in for good measure.
 
Charlie also sold uncut plain bread which he would remove from a batch of loaves still joined together just as they had been when they came out of the oven at the Co-operative bakery at the corner of Auchincampbell Road. Peggy’s instructions on leaving our prefab was always the same “don’t let him give you an end loaf”. The “end loaf” was the ones at each end of the batch and no one liked them. Her instructions passed on, Charlie would pull the loaf off from the middle of the batch and hand it over for me to wrap in a clean dish towel. The hands which weighed the potatoes also handled the bread. It’s a miracle there wasn’t an epidemic every other week, for I suspect that there were no hand washing facilities in the primitive van and coupled with the fact that it was parked not twenty feet from a swamp moving with flies, the whole scenario was to say the least unhygienic; but that was the way life was then. I suppose because we were exposed to so many illnesses we built up a natural immunity, but serious infections could strike at any time and one summer we were finally all banned from the swamp due to an outbreak of polio. I have to say that Charlie was well respected and I remember him as a nice cheery man.
The site of the van would have given today’s public health department major problems, for it was parked on what appeared to be remnants of the Fairhill colliery pit waste bing, the bottom of which was only feet away from a slimy swamp, complete with grasses, bulrushes and God only knows what else. Childhood memories can remain with you for ever and I can vouch for that, for I am never likely to forget the day when I was about seven years old and happily paddling barefoot in the swamp when I found a dead pike at least 3 feet long with a mouthful of teeth so big and sharp I had nightmares for weeks. I’m sure that it would have had a lot worse than nightmares if the pike had still been alive.The odd dead dog or cat in the water was not an unusual sight either.
 
FROG’S SPAWN.
This swamp was a mecca for local children and to access it from Millgate Road you had to slide at least thirty feet down a banking of pit waste and dumped rubbish to get to the water, but oh how we loved it. We had a lot of fun there during the spring and summer months. The rising temperatures in early spring wakened large numbers of hibernating frogs and toads and brought them back in their hundreds to their ancestral spawning grounds and the swamp then became a moving mass of amphibians of all shapes, sizes and colours. The frogs laid their eggs encased in clumps of jelly close to the shore and the toads laid long strings of eggs and wrapped them around the pond weeds further out in the water. We would watch with great interest as the round black frogs eggs safely protected by the gelatinous spawn changed into a comma shape and then the commas would then developed into tadpoles. You could see the commas moving and pulsing as the embryonic frogs tried out their developing muscles.To begin with the tadpoles were legless as they swam about the swamp, but as they grew, they developed back ones. The first one to spot a tadpole with back legs felt really chuffed with themselves. Later on they grew front legs and when their tails started to rot and disappear we would have thousands of miniature frogs and toads swimming about the water. It took about twelve to sixteen weeks for this transformation to take place.
 
Mrs McAlpine, our much loved infant school teacher at Low Waters Primary always welcomed the first jar of frogs spawn into her classroom and she would place them into a fish tank. It was in this classroom that we could watch close up the miracle of the natural developmental cycle of these extremely interesting little creatures. When the tadpoles became tiny frogs we always returned them to the swamp. One year we left it a bit late and on returning one Monday morning we found small frogs hopping over the desks and classroom floor and we gathered them up and returned them to the swamp when school was finished for the day.
 
Unfortunately, it is rare to spot a frog nowadays, due to the loss of their natural habitat through redevelopment. At one time they were a common sight. The last time I saw frogs was about a quarter to eleven one night when I was driving home over the “back roads” after a busy shift at Hairmyres Hospital. Just after I turned off of Newhousemill Road into Muttonhole Road, I had to stop the car because to my absolute delight, the road was brightly lit by a full moon and moving across it en masse right in front of me were hundreds of frogs newly wakened from their winter hibernation and migrating towards the old reservoir to start their spring breeding cycle. I have to admit I just sat and enjoyed this wonder of nature and when the last of the frogs vanished into the night I finally drove off. I felt so privileged to have witnessed it. For me that night, I was in the right place at the right time.
 
Charlie’s Co van has long gone and where it stood are two new houses. The swamp has been drained and turned into a football park and the burn now flows unseen and unheard through large concrete pipes deep down in the earth. However, the story does not finish there. One day during the 1970s (approx) the park became the scene of a major emergency when some of the local boys took it into their heads to lift the manhole cover and climb the forty or so feet down the ladder to the water, reputedly to see if they could find any trout. A woman living across from the park witnessed them going into the manhole and stood at her window waiting for them to reappear. As time passed, she became seriously concerned for their safety and quite rightly dialed 999. That call brought every emergency service in the town up to Millgate Road.
 
There were police cars, ambulances and firemen wearing breathing apparatus. A large crowd of people had gathered both inside and outside the park, among them the mothers of the boys who were out of their minds with worry. Fearing the worst, the women were absolutely distraught as they watched the firemen descend the manhole. The band of underage explorers were thankfully brought back to the surface uninjured and as they emerged one by one into the sunshine, they must have thought that they were having a nightmare, for facing them were lines of emergency personnel; half of Fairhill was staring at them and worst of all was their sobbing mothers. “Oh ma wean” said the mother of the first boy who emerged from the manhole and she ran and clasped him to her breast much to his embarrassment because his pals were watching. Each mother reacted more or less the same; except for one, Teresa, who frantic with an explosive mixture of blind fear and pure relief made a dive for her boy and just for a moment, it looked as if she was going to have a swing at him. I can see it in my mind’s eye as clearly as if it was yesterday and it still makes me laugh. She was some Teresa, everyone liked her. It was certainly a day never to be forgotten. …..
Wilma S. Bolton. ©

THE BURNBANK DYNAMITE EXPLOSION 1876. By Wilma Bolton.

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The Explosion would have taken place roughly where the number 1794 is on the map. 

“From the middle of the 19th century, Hamilton and surrounding hamlets and villages were dangerous places to live and work. Health and safety was not on the list of priorities and many people were killed in industrial accidents. This story tells of the carnage in Burnbank on the 19th June 1876, when dynamite exploded in a builder’s yard the site of which today would be behind Newfield Crescent at the Burnbank entrance to Pollock Avenue”

During the 1850’s, the discovery of rich coal seams in Hamilton and Burnbank heralded the beginning of the development of the infrastructure required to accommodate the industrialisation of what had been a rural setting. With the development of Greenfield Colliery commencing in May 1859, Burnbank expanded rapidly and railway lines were constructed with branches leading off to the coal mines and developing heavy industry.
Within a short period of time Burnbank, had gone from a quiet little hamlet of only a few houses and farms, to a dangerous, noisy, hub of industry with people coming from all over the country and Ireland to seek employment.

By 1876, John Watson had started extensive colliery operations in a field on the lands of Hillhouse farm and with the purchase of a small piece of land at Burnbank he now had access to the new Bothwell- Hamilton railway line which was under construction. Building this railway was Charles Brand & Sons railway contractor Hope Street, Glasgow whose workshops at Shawsburn were at the end of a narrow road just beyond the bridge which spanned the burn going under the Burnbank Road. Originally a farm, the old buildings had been adapted by the company and one of the buildings, 60 feet by 20 feet, had been converted into a store, joiners shop and a smithy, separated by a wooden partition. Another two buildings were used as stables with stalls for twenty four horses.

At twenty-five past eleven on the morning of Monday September 19th June 1876, Burnbank was rocked by an explosion so loud that it was heard beyond Baillieston, Wishaw and Stonehouse. So violent was this explosion that both the County Buildings and Hamilton Barracks along with the rest of Hamilton, shook to their foundations. Debris from the explosion caused damage to property hundreds of yards away and seven workmen employed by McAlpine, building houses at what would become Burnbank Cross were nearly blown off the roof when the building shook violently and debris rained down on top of them.

At a house thirty feet away from the smithy, a woman named Mrs Hughes who had been standing at her doorway was knocked unconscious when she was hit on the cheek by a brick and her daughter who had been doing a washing, was covered in plaster from the roof and walls. Their comfortable home was extensively damaged. Another two houses close to the site of the blast and occupied by James McGinnigan and James Stirling were left uninhabitable. In Burnbank more than one hundred windows were blown in. People ran out on to the street and collected in groups, speculating on the source of explosion and the general consensus of opinion was that a boiler must have blown up.

Men from all around the area ran towards the scene of the explosion. Navvies left the nearby railway-cuttings where they were working and soldiers from Hamilton barracks, and police and officials from the county buildings all headed as fast as they could towards Burnbank, where a huge cloud of smoke hung over the disaster.

It was evident to the people making for the site of the explosion, that whatever had taken place lay up the narrow road at Shawsburn. The first on the scene was county police officer Sergeant Cruikshanks who had been riding only 100 yards away when the explosion occurred. He arrived at the smoking ruins followed by workers from the McAlpine’s building site and was met by a scene of utter devastation. The smithy and joiners shop no longer existed and in their place was a tangled mass of wood, stone and iron. The stables were recognisable but only just. The roofs were gone, and there was a lot of damage caused by flying debris.

The rescuers heard screams of pain coming from cartwright Alexander Livingstone who was lying covered by debris. When released and questioned, he said he had been working that morning with two blacksmiths, two hammermen, two joiners, a labourer and a policeman, a total of nine men. He was carried him to the stable furthest away from the scene of devastation and laid on clean hay where he was treated by Drs Robertson and Grant who had arrived after hearing the explosion. Within a very short space of time, the disaster scene was crowded with officials and helpers, including Sheriff Spens, Commander McHardy, Lanarkshire’s Chief Constable from the County Buildings and Lieutenant Brewster and Dragoons from the barracks in Almada Street.

The scene at the smithy was one of indescribable horror with several of the bodies atomised and lying in a pool of blood near what had been the door was an unidentifiable mass of what had shortly before, been a living human being. One body was found under the upright wheels of a cart and another two were found locked together some nine feet away and a fourth some twelve feet distance. At first it was thought that there were five victims but the arrival of Constable Charles Chrichton with the news that Constable James McCall was missing increased the total to six.

Chrichton and McCall although county constables and wearing the uniform, were both employed and paid by Messrs Brand to watch the railway works. Because the joiners shop also doubled as a pay office and general local headquarters of the firm both men had arranged to meet there to see if any complaints had been lodged before they started their work. Charles Chrichton had escaped death by a few minutes as he had been on his way to the yard when the explosion occurred. Immediately after the disaster he was been dispatched to find a doctor and returned an hour later.

The remains of the victims were removed to a stable where the work of identification could begin. Constable McCall was identified by a piece of his belt and fragments of his handcuffs and police sergeant Cruikshanks and the Rev. Stewart Wright Parish minister at Blantyre had to break the bad news to his young widow Catherine who was heavily pregnant and already the mother of four children.

By that evening six sets of remains had been recovered and as dynamite had been found in the wreckage, work was halted until someone with knowledge of this explosive attended the scene. The following day the suspicion surfaced that there was a seventh victim after a local dog was found running about with a scalp which was later identified as belonging to John Kennedy a labourer.

Three people were injured; cartwright, Alexander Livingston lay unconscious for several days at his father’s Greenfield home but went on to make a good recovery. John Rafferty hammerman at the smithy had a miraculous escape. John had been aware that there was damaged dynamite being stored in the joiners shop and due to the close proximity of the smithy he had repeatedly complained about it, and warned that it could be dangerous. John had been the first one to see that something was going wrong in the workshop when he noticed a blue flame in the corner where the dynamite was stored. He quickly drew the attention of Black the foreman blacksmith’s to it and was told to get a pail of water. He had only reached the door when the dynamite exploded and the force projected him for some distance finally dumping him behind a hedge. When he recovered consciousness he staggered back to the workshops to find the building had been blown to smithereens.

Over 100 pounds of dynamite were found in the debris and one stick complete with fuse was found lodged in a chimney on the McAlpine building site several hundred yards away. There was a public outcry that despite the 1875 Explosives Act, dynamite was being stored in an unauthorised area. Subsequently James Donald Clark, engineer and sub-manager of Messrs Charles Brand & Son was charged with the culpable homicide of the seven victims.

During the trial, one of the witnesses, John Bathgate, told of how on the instructions of Dickie the foreman joiner, he carted 200 lbs of water damaged dynamite from the magazine approximately a quarter of a mile away, to Brands yard and left it in under Dickie’s bench. It was stated that Dickie was in charge of the magazine key and gave dynamite out when authorised. When it was found that a quantity of the dynamite was water damaged, Clark ordered that the magazine be cleaned out and repaired. Experiments had then been carried out with the damaged dynamite including the use of detonators, gunpowder and then a bonfire but it failed to explode and it was concluded that it was useless.

Patrick McAvoy, Donald McGinnes, James Semple, James Clark, John Rafferty and Alexander Livingston all gave evidence as to the presence of the dynamite under the bench. At the summing up of the trial the Advocate- Depute asked for a verdict of guilty but the jury after an absence of half an hour returned a not guilty verdict by a majority of 13 to 3.
Eight weeks later, the report on the results of the official inquiry into the explosion, laid the blame for the explosion at the door of the engineer Mr Clark, despite him being found not guilty in court. The inquiry stated that he was morally responsible, if not criminally responsible for the accident, because it was under his instructions that the dynamite had been stored at an unlawful place i.e. the joiner’s yard. The report emphasised the necessity of keeping dynamite free from contact with water whereby it became extremely dangerous and unstable. Messrs Charles Brand & Son were also implicated.

At Hamilton Sheriff Court the following March the young widow and children of James McCall sued Charles Brand & Son for £2000. Despite the finding of the official inquiry she was awarded only £150 damages.
THE VICTIMS.
William Dickie. 50. Foreman joiner. Native of Ayrshire.
George Horne. 43. Joiner. Native of Ingie, Buckie, Banffshire.
David Black. 29. Foreman blacksmith. Native of Balerno.
John Fraser 26. Native of Inverness.
William McLay. 22. Hammerman. He belonged to the district.
John Kennedy. 66. Labourer. Native of Elginshire.
James McCall. 25 Police Officer. High Blantyre.
© Wilma S. Bolton

THE ENEMY WITHIN.

 

Andrew McNulty
  Andrew McAnulty. 

THE ENEMY WITHIN.
by Wilma s. Bolton

Wilma sent this story to Historic Hamilton at the start of last month and the story could be seen as controversial, however it is based on facts and letters published in the Hamilton Advertiser.

When we consider the damage to local buildings caused by the extraction of coal during the 19th and 20th centuries, Hamilton is indeed fortunate to have many fine old grey, red and honey coloured sandstone buildings still surviving. Looking at these buildings, some of which still show evidence of subsidence damage, it is hard to comprehend how the town’s residents managed to live with the daily threat of collapsing homes and the ever present danger of falling masonry and slates.

Such was the extent of the damage, a town Bailie is recorded as saying at a council meeting during December 1891 that “if a stranger were to pass through the town at present, he would think it had been wrecked by an earthquake,” another remarked that “tenants were living in terror”. On June 3rd, 1911 the Hamilton Advertiser reported that “that the new and costly Academy in Auchincampbell Road is showing signs of fracture from mineral workings before the walls are more than half-way up”. To prevent further damage, coal hundreds of feet below the building was purchased from the Bent Coal Company and left in situ to provide solid foundations. Graphic accounts in local archives tell of joists snapping in the middle of the night and people in night clothes fleeing their homes as gable ends, roofs and chimney stacks collapsed. Fractured gas mains set fire to property and buildings all over the town were being shored up to prevent them collapsing. If the old buildings which are left could talk, many of them would have extremely diverse and interesting tales to tell.

A classic example of this is the grey sandstone building at number 116 Cadzow Street, the story of which is inextricably linked to the industrial history of our town and which without a shadow of a doubt, has more stories to tell than most. Now being privately renovated, it was seriously neglected by South Lanarkshire Council who had bought the property. The building was paid for by coal miners contributions and was once the proud headquarters of Lanarkshire Miners’ Union. If only the building could talk, it is a silent witness to a gargantuan battle between moderate trade unionists and the Communist Party who were intent in achieving total control over the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union.

Designed by Alexander Cullen and built to replace the New Cross offices of the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union, the building was opened on July 16th, 1908, by John Robertson the building committee convener. Union secretary David Gilmour in his opening speech, publicly acknowledged that Blantyre’s late William Small was one of the pioneers whose labours had made it possible for them to reach their present strong position.” He also spoke of another great pioneer Alexander MacDonald, M.P. 1821-1881, who in 1829 at the age of eight entered a Monklands mine where he worked for eighteen years. Harnessed like a beast of burden, MacDonald and other children aged from seven to eleven slaved every day transporting hutches of coal to the surface. Almost forty years later, on the 28th April, 1868, when called to give evidence to the Royal Commission on Trade Unions, he gave a graphic account of how the children “wore leather belts for our shoulders. We had to keep dragging the coal with these ropes over our shoulders, sometimes round the middle with a chain between our legs. Then there was always another behind pushing with his head.”

Alexander MacDonald was gifted with a quick mind but had little formal education; however, in his twenties he started attending night school after work and developed an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Eventually he gained admission to Glasgow University the fees of which he funded by working as a coal miner during holidays. His education enabled him to work as a teacher, but never forgetting his years underground he spent the rest of his life trying to improve the lives of coal miners by becoming actively involved in the formation of a miners’ union. His harrowing evidence given before the Royal Commission on Trades Unions was instrumental in the passing of legislation for the 1872 Mines Act which vastly improved the working conditions for both miners and children. Another product of his leadership was the Mines Act of 1860, which empowered miners to appoint and pay a checkweigher from among their number to be present at the weighing of coal to ensure that the correct weight was recorded. Prior to this, miners were regularly underpaid for the coal they sent up to the pit head. In 1874 MacDonald stood as a Lib–Lab candidate for Stafford and won, becoming one of the first working-class members of the House of Commons. Throughout his life he fought to improve conditions for coalminers. He died in 1891at Hamilton’s only recently demolished Wellhall House and was buried in Monklands Churchyard. As his funeral cortège passed through Hamilton, the streets were lined with thousands of miners paying their last respects to a good man and a great trade unionist.

Many men of a similar caliber followed in Alexander McDonald’s footsteps. Men like Keir Hardie, Hector McNeil, Robert Steel, John Dunn, Robert Smillie, William Small, William B. Small, David Gilmour and John Robertson, all of them trail blazers who fought long hard battles to win safer and better conditions for miners and whose qualities of courage, honesty and conviction count them with Alexander MacDonald as the founding fathers of the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union.

Miners Union..jpg

The end of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century saw a relatively prosperous period for miners, but with war clouds gathering over Europe, life for them was never going to be quite the same again. With the declaration of World War One on August 4th 1914, countless men left the pits to fight for their country and they fought with distinction and great courage.

The peace which followed the carnage resulted in thousands of miners returning home expecting to be re-employed in local coal mines only to find that the market for British coal was collapsing and their chance of finding work was almost negligible. Hamilton pits still working were on short time and in September 1919, the Bent, Greenfield, Earnock, Neilsland, Hamilton Palace and all the Larkhall collieries closed until further notice throwing 10,000 men out of work. It was during this period of mass unemployment there appeared a more insidious and dangerous enemy than any they had ever encountered before….. the Communist Party, organised by local power hungry political extremists.

Seeing the vulnerability and despair endemic in the coal fields, the Communists seized the opportunity and the battle for complete control of 116 Cadzow Street began. Party zealots targeted the unemployed miners knowing that hunger and poverty left them extremely vulnerable to their persuasive tongues. Had employment and working conditions been normal, the usually sensible and hard working Labour voting miners would have laughed at their radical beliefs, but destitution and worry can change the way people think and the propaganda preached to men who were at their wits end trying to feed their families and keep a roof over their heads appeared to some like the solution to their problems. Desperate men blinded by promises of full employment, a six hour day and wages higher than they could ever have dreamed of were brainwashed into believing in a Communist utopia.

Blantyre in particular had become a Communist hotbed and the miners’ smoldering insecurities were blown into flames by highly organised propaganda campaigns orchestrated by communists like Andrew McAnulty and William Allan, who taking their instructions and orders from their Communist masters preyed upon the despair of the unemployed coal miners in their effort to gain outright political power.

During the 1921 miners’ strike and the long drawn out agony of the 1926 strike, the members of the Communist Party of Great Britain were to the fore in using the dissemination of their propaganda as a political strategy in an attempt to win over the coal miners to their cause. A letter clearly referring to the dangers appeared in the following excerpt from a letter published in the July 19th, 1926 edition of The Lanarkshire which left the reader in no doubt as to who the writer’s was talking about when he asks “is there a Labour man in Blantyre who imagines he can see home questions better with Soviet spectacles than with Scottish or Blantyre goggles?”

Miners Union1
Miners Union. This symbol can still be seen on many old buildings throughout Lanarkshire.

By 1927, 20,000 Lanarkshire colliery workers were unemployed. The disastrous 1926 strike resulted in large regular European orders being lost to Silesian coal companies where miners were paid £1 for working a seventy hour week. The coal from these mines was sold at prices Britain could never compete with. Another major factor for unemployment among Lanarkshire miners was the exhaustion of many of the seven to ten feet high seams of prime splint coal used for blast furnaces and a greater part of the coal output was being obtained from seams of two feet or less in thickness. These seams were more difficult and expensive to work resulting in the closure of many uneconomic collieries. This had a knock on effect on neighbouring pits where the pumping equipment failed to cope with the flooding coming from the abandoned mines, causing them in turn to shut down. The Hamilton Advertiser noted on December 15th, 1928, that “78 pits were reported to have closed down in Lanarkshire, throwing 3218 employees out of work and 540 pits previously employing 34,330 wage earners had been abandoned in Great Britain since January 1927”. For the once great British coal industry, this was the beginning of the end.

A stark warning about the Communist infiltration was included in the March 12th, 1927 edition of the Hamilton Advertiser. This article records how “The Miners’ Minority Movement was carrying out intensive propaganda for the reorganisation of the Miners’ Federation and taking advantage of the dislocated condition of the Federation and district unions as a result of the strike. They are a unit of the Communist Party of Great Britain, and their objective is the overthrow of the present system by revolutionary methods. They make demands which are economically impossible. It is not their desire that the miners should reason them out, but accept them as submitted so that they can carry out an attitude of discontent which is the most important factor in their propaganda. Their movement is not wholly maintained by their members, who are mostly unemployed. It would be of interest if some of the officials, say Mr Allan, would come forward and let the miners be acquainted with the source of their revenue.” The article advises that “the workers must do their part in refusing to listen to the agitators who create strikes for their own benefit and to the detriment of the miner.”

Miners were aware of the indoctrination tactics being used by the Communists and articles and letters on the subject were appearing on a regular basis in local newspapers. A letter published in the Hamilton Advertiser of February 18th, 1928 points out the dangers and makes the following plea to the mining community “we need a Miners’ Union free from the scarlet fever of Communism. Referring to the carnage of World War One, the writer reminds readers that “all nations are now banded together in an effort to abolish war with all its horrors. The only section of the community is that of the Communists, who seek to let loose the dogs of commercial strife and this is but a step forward to the rattle of machine guns and the sowing the seeds of death and desolation. War, whether in the battlefield or in the industrial field must be paid for. What decent folk want is peace and the prosperity that alone can come from peace.”

By this time most branches of the Miners’ Union had been infiltrated and the Hamilton Advertiser of August 18th 1928 published a letter from an outraged miner in Ponfeigh near Douglas Water, telling how James Hunter the “late” Communist local branch secretary of the Lanarkshire Mineworkers’ Union, had attempted to falsify a Communist majority in a Union ballot. The writer describes how the entry written by Hunter in the minutes of the local branch meeting of 5th December recorded a Communist victory for a ballot which was not held untill the 9th, three days after he had documented the “results” in the book.

The Hamilton Advertiser regularly warned the mining communities about the dangers of Communism. On June 2nd, 1928 headlines of “COMMUNISM EXPOSED” reported how the National Union of Scottish Mineworkers had issued a strong condemnation of the Communist and Minority Movement at a meeting in Glasgow of the Executive Committee presided over by Mr Robert Smellie, M.P. the first President of the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union from its inception in 1889 until January 1919. At the meeting, he made an appeal for the “the men and women in the Scottish coalfield to support the Union.” Their movement he stated had only been made possible by the service and sacrifice of numberless men and women who had paid the price in suffering, privation and victimisation as the result of their activities on behalf of the workers.” He added: —“The growth and development of our organisation during recent years encourage us to hope that at the next General Election a Labour Government in power is reasonably possible. With Labour in power the beginning of a new and happier era in the working class struggle will commence.” His explicit message couldn’t have been any clearer as he spoke of how “the Communist Party and its auxiliary body, the Minority Movement, were acting on definite instructions from an outside and foreign executive authority and were seeking to capture the industrial and political machinery built up by the workers of this country. Their method of achieving this is as unscrupulous as it is dishonest. ‘Don’t trust your leaders’ is their slogan, while their own slavish subservience and implicit obedience to their own masters the autocrats of the Red International, is only equalled by their desire to attain the position of those whom they have systematically transduced with that object only in view. That the Communist Party and the Minority Movement are one and the same is now proved. They are the children of the same parents, and cannot by the very nature of their connection carry out the will of the workers, as they must not concern themselves with what the Union members think but only what the Executive of Moscow International decides. The will of the majority means nothing to them and their professional desire to serve the interests of their fellow Trade Unionists becomes a lying phrase in the mouths of men who have bound themselves to carry out the dictates of this autocracy to whom they are responsible… their method of obtaining selection and election.”

At 116 Cadzow Street, a desperate battle was being played out in an attempt to prevent the Communist members of Lanarkshire Mineworkers’ Union taking over the Union at elections due to take place in June 1928. Moderate members of the Executive tried to place a ban on Communist interference at a meeting of the Executive held at Hamilton and the following resolution was submitted by them:– “To draw attention to the interference of the Communist organisation and its ally, the so-called Minority Movement, with the questions affecting the internal and domestic affairs of the Lanarkshire Mineworkers’ Union by holding open public meetings to which persons are invited who have no concern or interest in the miners’ organisation and, at which resolutions are made to support the candidature for official positions in the Lanarkshire Mineworkers’ Union of such persons as are willing to carry out instructions given or conveyed to them by emissaries of the above named outside and alien organisations; and as their interference is an invasion of the right of members of the Lanarkshire Mineworkers’ Union to choose their representatives in a manner consistent with their usual custom and practice, and intended to cause friction and dissension, this Executive Committee recommends that any person on the panel of those outside organisations, and being recommended by them, be declared ineligible to hold any official or executive position in the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union, and that his or their name or names should not be submitted to the members of the organisation to be voted upon at any election.”
Communist Andrew McAnulty, by now Union president ruled the resolution out of order, whereupon his ruling was challenged and it was moved that he be asked to leave the chair. This motion was carried by a 2 to 1 majority, whereupon the proceedings were adjourned. At a subsequent meeting, McAnulty insisted on continuing as chairman and as a consequence, another state of deadlock was reached.

By June 30th, 1928 the Communist leaders of the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union were reported to be sending delegates into English mining areas to ask for help in their fight to clear out the “old gang” (the moderates). The same week it was stated, “A Lanarkshire Communist has been in Nottingham coalfields begging the miners there to assist the Lanarkshire “Reds” in their plans to capture the union machine.” The majority members of the executive of the Lanarkshire Miners’ County Union, who have been demanding that Mr Andrew McAnulty should vacate the position of chairman, issued a manifesto yesterday in support of their attitude. The objection to Mr McAnulty arose because of his refusal to allow a motion which proposed to ban all nominees for union positions whose names appear on the lists of the Communist Party and Minority Movement.” The manifesto, which was signed by three miners’ M. P.’s and others declared:–
“The Lanarkshire Miners’ Union have been in chaos since June 5 when the business of the union has been held up by the chairman Mr Andrew McAnulty, who has put forward a claim that “his decision on any subject must be accepted by the members as final and conclusive”. He has repeatedly refused since the above date to allow the question at issue, viz., the right of the members to appoint their officials, delegates, and members of the Executive Council free from the interference of persons belonging to the Communist Party and Minority Movement, to be considered either by the Executive Council or a conference of delegates. As this arrogant and impudent claim, if admitted, would destroy all representative and democratic organisation, the following members of the executive who form the majority, have no alternative but to advise local officials and members that any communication they may receive from the chairman and secretary of the union with respect to elections or any other matter will be unauthorised and irregular until after a conference of delegates has been called.”

Andrew McAnulty was a fanatical hard line Communist and a founder member of the Communist Party of Great Britain. The objective of every Communist was to infiltrate organisations, increase party membership and supply new recruits. The Communist radicalisation of the Lanarkshire coal miners had begun and with McAnulty at the helm, Communists infiltrated the union at an alarming rate.
In August 1928, local non Communist miners’ MP’s and Lanarkshire Miners’ Union members in an attempt to remove McAnulty and his Communist comrades applied for and were granted a note of suspension and interdict in the Bill Chamber of the Court of Session, Edinburgh. This suspension prompted his resignation at the end of August 1928. In his letter of resignation he gave “a loss of self esteem and his nerves being affected” due to the attempts by the moderates to have him removed.

into a union, I should like to set a few plain facts before them. For some time past we have had nothing in our district but debt and disunion. Now our enthusiasm is rekindled and we are told if the Blantyre miners intend to attain to their former admirable position, we needs just copy the wise example of other districts. Very good indeed, Mr McAnulty is the one that has to enact “the one eyed monarch among the blind,” and we, the Blantyre miners, have to contribute our quota to keep up the magnificent fun. I marvel much at their impertinence when we miners reflect on the unions of the past. Now sir, I could carpet a floor with union books and all the union money vanished in expenses. Now, we are asked to start another by the same agent that made the rest of the unions beautiful failures. Surely the Blantyre miners are not going to ballot a man on for his ability and cleverness in breaking up unions. If that be the case, I as one object, until I get a clear understanding. Has Mr McAnulty not openly said that all the unions in the past were useless? Then I ask him on what lines he is intending to draft this new species? Will it be one of the old species? Will it be one of the old kind which took all we miners could contribute for postcards and what the committee could borrow for ink? If that is to be the sort of union, I would advise the Blantyre miners to have none of it. Let us not build up another frail, fragile sham. If we have to be in union at all, let us have a solid one that will be appreciated and carry weight with it. Goodness knows, it makes men’s brains sick to observe so many unions set a going only to crumble away. I am, yours, etc., Frederick Farrell.

In recent years the airbrushing of Andrew McAnulty’s contribution to Lanarkshire’s mining history has resulted in him being erroneously described as the “first” president of the Lanarkshire Miners’ Union and “champion of the working class,” instead of a dyed in the wool Communist whose political ambition and radical extremist beliefs caused nothing but strife, strikes, suffering and poverty for miners and their families. Much has been made of his unfurling of the National Coal Board flag at the newly nationalised Dixon’s Collieries in 1947 and of being awarded a weekly pension of £2 by the National Union of Mineworkers’ whose General Secretary William Pearson just happened to be a close friend of McAnulty and a fanatical Communist and a prolific contributor to the letters column of the Hamilton Advertiser, where his descriptions of the wonderful working and living conditions enjoyed by Soviet miners in Stalin’s Siberian coal mines beggars belief. Sixty years after Andrew McAnulty’s death, Blantyre’s Stonefield Public Park was renamed McAnulty Park much to the anger and disbelief of many Blantyre residents a number of whom noted their disapproval through the letters pages of the Hamilton Advertiser.

Historical accuracy is often the first casualty when eyewitnesses are dead and no one is left to challenge what has been written; but the indisputable evidence of the Communist take over of Lanarkshires Miners’ Unions has not vanished into the mists of time. The rank and file throughout the coal mining communities repeatedly contributed to local newspapers voicing their alarm at what was happening and in doing so, they recorded the facts, fears and their eyewitness accounts of what was taking place throughout the Lanarkshire coal field and beyond. Their testimony can be found in the archives of the old Hamilton Advertisers which are available for the public to read at Hamilton Town House Reference Library situated at 102 Cadzow Street and only a stone’s throw from the former miners’ union headquarters at 116 Cadzow Street, Hamilton where this story began

© Wilma S. Bolton. 2014.

The Hamilton Poor House.

Poor House Map.

HAMILTON COMBINATION POORHOUSE
By Wilma S. Bolton ©

In the 1850’s Hamilton, like every other community had residents who for variety of reasons were unable to support themselves and who were forced by their circumstances to apply to be put on the poor roll. Their application would be thoroughly investigated by the inspector of poor and stringent criteria had to be met before the claimant could quality for relief.
Once it had been established that the claimants had no means of supporting themselves, they were given outdoor poor relief which made it possible for them to continue live in their own homes. Elderly residents could also be looked after in Aikman’s Alms House in Muir Street situated opposite what is now the car park of St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church. There was also Hamilton Parochial Lodging House with room for 57 residents where the poor could be boarded.

The people who were entitled to poor relief were residents of the town who were widows with no means of supporting themselves and their children, the elderly and sick who were unable to work and the unemployed. Initially the poor were given an allowance and had their rent paid for them but the potato famine of 1845-1851 resulted in thousands of starving poverty-stricken Irish families arriving in Scotland and applications for poor relief increased dramatically.

Anyone applying for assistance and who did not meet the necessary residential criteria could be put on the poor roll, but the town of their birth or where they had residential status was charged for their keep. However, it was not unknown for the inspector of the poor to escort claimants back to their own parish, even going as far as deporting women and children back to the town of their birth in Ireland.

In 1860 the Hamilton Advertiser published statistics relating to the occupants of Hamilton Parochial Lodging House. Of the 29 adults present, 5 were blind, 4 of weak intellect, 4 with diseased legs and unable to walk, 11 were bedridden and the other 5 unable to support themselves. There were also 28 resident children in the lodging house who attended the Hamilton Orphan & Charity School in Chapel Street. The formation of the Hamilton Orphan Society in 1809 and the opening of their school in 1849 meant orphan and destitute children were taken off the streets and given an education and taught skills which would help them to obtain employment.

Prior to the opening of the Parochial Lodging House, orphaned or abandoned children were boarded out with “whoever would keep them the cheapest,” but because of this, they were allowed to “grow up in ignorance and beggary. Many old and diseased were also boarded out and were kept in a “very dirty state” again at the cheapest rates the parish could obtain.
The system of support was austere, although extra allowances could be paid for necessities such as compulsory smallpox inoculations, the registration of births, funerals and clothing. There was even a form of legal aid.

However, by the late 1850s, plans had been put forward with a view to the construction of a combination poorhouse where the poor of eight local parishes could stay under one roof. This proposal however was not for the benefit of the poor; it was merely a cost saving exercise due to the increase in the numbers of claimants.

formed objects exposed to the cold wintry weather” and advocated that the trade of “exhibiting ghastly little infants labouring under whooping cough, measles or other infectious diseases” in an attempt to obtain money from passers by should be prevented.

The proposed combination poorhouse caused a great deal of controversy with more people against the idea than for it. The letters columns of the Hamilton Advertiser frequently published correspondence from irate readers on the subject. One very anti poorhouse letter, dated 10th September, 1864, stated the reason for the building of a poorhouse was to discourage people from claiming parish poor relief, but, “to the outcast and truly destitute such an asylum might prove a home, but still a home without liberty.”

The writer, a Strathaven man also pointed out that in Strathaven “it had been noticed and remarked on with pain by many, that a special class on the poor roll has been handed down for many generations, so that the family connection can be traced far back, where pauperhood was deeply rooted—so deeply, that it has been transmitted from father to son as an inheritance through a long line of succession and can be genealogically traced as are the lineal descendents of some of the great aristocratic families of the land.”

Another letter published on 25th October 1862, advocated supporting “honest poverty” at home, rather than “seeing it dragged away bleeding and desolate to a place of captivity” (the poorhouse) and quotes a Glasgow Herald article which states that “the felons of our country in our jails, are treated in every respect far better than the poor inmates of our poorhouses.” The poor he said “were generally natives of the place and had spent their days amongst us and consequently are well known and in not a few instances much respected.” “All their whole crime is, they’re penniless poor” to lock them up would be a “most gross and unqualified barbarity.” The proposed combination poorhouse was he said, an attempt by the “would be rich,” to make honest poverty appear—“what it never was, nor never will be while the bible is the book—a crime.”

The writer vividly described in his letter the removal of a destitute Newarthill family from their home to the New Monkland Workhouse. “The family consisted of a miner, about 40 years of age, suffering from disease of the heart; his wife, a pale half-famished looking creature and three sickly emaciated children, the eldest of whom could not be more than five years old. A donkey cart had been provided for their transportation and into this miserable, jolting vehicle the family were packed and dragged along in this degrading manner to the New Monkland Bastille.” The writer called for a rejection of the plans to build a combination workhouse in Hamilton.

Despite objections, the proposed Hamilton Combination Poorhouse was built at Bothwell Road at a cost of £11,198 6s 3d. The first inmates were admitted in 1867 with no opening ceremony. The shares (beds) were distributed as follows. Avondale, 25; Blantyre, 10; Cambuslang,15; Dalserf, 15; Glassford, 9; Hamilton, 72; East Kilbride, 14; Stonehouse, 10; a total of 170 beds.

For the decent working man, the thought of becoming ill and unable to support his family, brought with it the terror of being locked away in the poorhouse and the reasons why were very obvious. Residents had to contribute to their keep by working in the laundry, cleaning, assisting in the dining hall, working in the gardens, in the pigsty or in the poorhouse factory where the men sawed up old railway sleepers and chopped them into sticks which were then dipped into naphtha tanks to make firelighters. By giving the inmates work the cost of running the poorhouse was kept to an absolute minimum. The life was regimented and to survive, 100% conformity to rules was required. For slight misdemeanours, inmates had their clothes removed and were for a period of up to six or seven days “locked up in the clink” (a room used as an area of detention in the poorhouse) and have their already inadequate diet cut.

In 1924 a scandal rocked Hamilton when an anonymous letter was delivered to the editor of the Hamilton Advertiser complaining of the appalling conditions endured by the inmates of Hamilton Combination Poorhouse. The letter complained of numerous people being bathed in the same water, sick people being forced to work, deplorable food and maggots in the soup. It also went into great detail about the lack of nursing care given to the sick in the two hospital wards. Staffed during the day by one trained nurse to each ward there were no nursing staff on duty at night, only an untrained “inmate warder” who slept in the vicinity of the wards and who attended to the patients only when their shouts managed to waken him out of a sleep. The letter described the horrors of sick and dying patients lying unattended for ten hours during the night and of dead bodies lying in bed in a ward full of patients until the nursing staff came on in the morning. This letter resulted in a Public Inquiry being held into the allegations.

The Inquiry heard of a regime where even staff were afraid to complain about conditions, because if found out, they were instantly dismissed by the Governor. This was the case when a Nurse Charles complained to Hamilton Parish Councillor John C. Kelly about food being unfit for consumption. John Kelly appears to be the only person who genuinely attempted over a period of sixteen years to have conditions at the poorhouse improved. A checkweigher at a Bent Colliery, he was ostracised by local councillors for speaking out against injustice and for not running with the pack. It was also because of Kelly that the issue of the conditions at Hamilton Combination Poorhouse were finally brought to light and the Public Inquiry held. He had written the letter published in the Hamilton Advertiser on behalf of Robert Peters, a former gardener at the poorhouse.

The situation regarding the nursing staff had been under review for eighteen years, but the Combination could not agree on what percentage each should pay to cover the cost of night nurses and “the interests of inmates had been sacrificed for those eighteen years.” When John Kelly gave evidence at the enquiry, he said that “it was the greatest shame in the annals of history” that there was no night attendant or nurse in the hospital. Lack of accommodation at the poorhouse for the extra nursing staff was one of the reasons put forward for the absence of 24 hour trained nursing care. Allegations made by witnesses during the Inquiry, told of how during the night, sick and dying patients cried out for help which never came.

One of the witnesses, Nurse Reid, a former employee of the Poorhouse, told of how “owing to there being no night nurse, she often found patients in a very dirty condition in the morning.” Other witnesses gave evidence of maggots being seen on the bones used to make soup and Mary O’Neil the cook said that soup was made on a Sunday with bones which very often were quite smelly and that the same bones were used again to make soup on the Monday; she also went on to described how the soup was at times filled up with water to make it go further. Soup was also added to stew for the same purpose. O’Neill also said that she would not have eaten the soup because it was “bad.”

Cissie McIvor, an eighteen year old inmate told of how she was kept in the “clink” from “before 10 a.m. till 7 p.m.” She spoke of an old woman (by then dead) who was allowed to lie in bed for four days without her clothing being changed. During the inquiry it was alleged that Cissie got up after hours, sat by the fire reading with the light turned on, when she should have been in bed. She said she only got up after hours to attend to her baby.

The Inquiry found that nursing arrangements for both night and day were totally inadequate and confirmed that the sick and dying did indeed cry out during the night for help which never came and that patients had died unattended. It was recommended that it was “imperative and urgently necessary” for extra trained nursing staff to be employed. It also found that the Governor who had failed to keep a punishment book had no authority to detain inmates under lock and key in “the clink” and the practice was immediately banned.
Attention was also drawn to the fact that inmates had a bath fortnightly instead of once a week as the Combination Poorhouse rules stipulated.

In the matter of the soup, the board ruled that matron allowed “an error of judgement” in allowing the bones to be used twice for making soup. The evidence of the “grubs” found floating on top of the soup was explained away by saying that they were only caterpillars from inadequately washed vegetables, not maggots as suggested and that the matter of its importance had been blown out of proportion. Another recommendation made was that the cold and inadequate Sunday dinner was to have an addition which might make it more attractive—e.g. cheese and coffee or some equivalent.

After the inquiry, the poorhouse settled down again to the purpose for which it was built –removing the poor out of sight from the rest of the town. More nursing staff were employed which resulted in a trained nurse in the wards at night.

On 27th February 1926 the nurses were reported by the Hamilton Advertiser as having penned a letter to the House Committee calling attention to the long hours of their working day 7.30 a.m. to 8 p.m. with less than two hours off for meals. They also requested that they could be allowed out till 10.30 p.m. without having to ask for permission. Eventually their working conditions were changed and they were allowed a half day off each week from 1.30 to 10.30 p.m with a whole day off every third week and a weekend off every six weeks. Their working day was reduced by 30 minutes; they were to have 2.1/8th hours off for meals and were allowed out until 10.45 p.m without having to ask for permission.

Following the enquiry conditions at the poorhouse were no longer accepted in silence and fear. The inmates spasmodically went on strike, and generally became much more vocal about the oppressive regime.

On the 11th October 1927 the Hamilton Advertiser reported that the inmates had complained that the new meal being used for making porridge was “softer in character than the old oats” and “quietly took their breakfast but left the porridge untouched.” The Governor requested a deputation of the men attend the Board Room but they refused, asking instead that he came to the day room. Because of their refusal to go to the Governor the police were called to the poorhouse. When the officers arrived, 38 men quietly got into their own clothing and left the institution. Within four days 25 of the dissenters were back.

In November, Mr Ellis the General Superintendent of Poor to the Board of Health, submitted his yearly report on Hamilton Combination Poorhouse to the House Committee of Hamilton Combination Poorhouse. In it, he described how linoleum had been now laid in one of the hospital wards with great success. He told of how the buildings was kept in an efficient state of repair as far as was possible however they were rat infested to an extent that the rats had gnawed through the water pipes. The report was passed by the House Committee with the chairman Mr James Paterson remarking that its contents were “very satisfactory.”
Also in October 1927 the people of Hamilton were outraged when a family from the Irish Free State consisting of parents and six children arrived in the town destitute and were almost immediately admitted to the poorhouse. The father was found a job with a wage of £2, but turned it down and it looked as if they were about to settle in a bit too well at the institution. Eventually, with not a little persuasion, the man accepted the job offer and they all very reluctantly left the poorhouse much to the relief of Hamilton Combination Poorhouse Committee.

On 5th November 1927, 40 male inmates again went on strike complaining of the quality of the food being served to them. Allegations were made that sand was being added to meal used for porridge and sugar and water were being added to the jam. The complaint was dismissed by Hamilton Parish Council after one of their members Mr Meers, commented that the strike had been caused by “one or two highbrows in the poorhouse who had come down in the world and were causing dissatisfaction among others”.

The roll of Hamilton Combination Poorhouse changed with the years especially during the middle part of the twentieth century; the name was also changed to Hamilton Home. In 1948 the Poor Law Acts were abolished and in July of that year Hamilton Home ceased to be a Poor Law Institution and its role instead was to provide “temporary accommodation for persons who are in urgent need thereof” from both the County and Burgh. It also became a reception centre for persons “without a settled way of living.” By September 1962 all of the 80 patients in the sick wards had been transferred to local hospitals and the last inmate left the home in January 1981.

Hamilton Combination Poorhouse remained open for 114 years and during this time, thousands of people whose only crime was poverty passed through the gates of the institution to be hidden well out of sight from the rest of society. For many of them, they were to spend the rest of their lives incarcerated within its walls. Ⓒ Wilma S. Bolton.

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AGED PAUPERS

The following list was published in the Hamilton Advertiser on the 8th October 1859 and contains the names of Hamilton’s paupers aged 70 and over who were being supported by the Parochial Board and who died between January 1858 and September 1859. Several of them died at Aikman’s Alms House in Muir Street.

1858

January 6 James Black 77
“ 6 Margaret Mackie 72
“ 7 Widow Kelly 84
“ 12 Mary Rankine 83
“ 28 Widow Spence 75
February 7 David Kennedy 79
March 8 Janet Yorkstone 85
“ 25 Jean Cooper 85
April 28 Widow Robertson 77
May 1 Widow Surgeon 71
“ 19 Jean Hamilton 76
June 14 Widow Smart 74
July 30 Widow Wright 74
August 5 Ann Lang 71
September 29 Widow Bryson 84
October 1 John Telford 78
“ 27 Thomas Curr 94
November 8 Widow Nimmo 77
December 1 James Lammond 71

1859.

January 2 Jean Meikle 70
“ 12 Gavin Burns 79
February 3 Widow Woodrow 76
“ 16 Margaret Moffat 70
“ 27 Widow John Barr 71
March 6 Michael O’Donnell 80
“ 10 Widow Tully 87
“ 17 Walter Starke 75
May 9 John Tudhope 84
“ 12 Janet Stevenson 78
June 4 Widow Leggate 81
“ 30 Alexander Wright 71
July 20 Widow Ann Paterson 70
August 19 John McDonald 82
“ 31 Widow James Hamilton.70
September 24 Peter McNaughton 83
“ 29 George Mitchell 70
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THE POORHOUSE MENU

Adults of either sex, who were not working and who had not completed, from the date of their last admission, a fortnights residence in the poorhouse.

Breakfast. Meal, four ounces and buttermilk, three fourths pint imperial.
Dinner. Bread Eight ounces and broth one and a half pints imperial.
Supper. Meal, four ounces and buttermilk, three fourths pint imperial.

Adult person of either sex who are working in poorhouse.

Breakfast. Meal four ounces and skimmed milk three fourths pint imperial.
Dinner. Bread, eight ounces; broth one and a half pints imperial and four ounces boiled meat; four ounces unsweetened suet pudding, twice weekly with the meat.
Supper. Meal four ounces and skimmed milk, three fourths pint imperial.

We would like to thank Wilma Bolton for sending us her story of the Hamilton Combination Poorhouse.

SAPPER WILLIAM McINERNEY, R.E. WW1. AWARDED MILITARY MEDAL 1918.

 

HONOUR FOR A LOCAL SOLDIER.— Congratulations to Sapper William McInerney, R.E. on his award of the Military Medal for a little bit of smart work during the advance. Along with an officer he went out to reconnoitre a village from which it was presumed the Hun had been cleared out. But not quite.
 
The officer and Sapper McInerney ran into 25 of the enemy concealed in a trench, including two officers. They were promptly compelled to cave in, and were marched back as prisoners to the British lines. Sapper McInerney was formerly employed at Cadzow Colliery, he enlisted in 1914 in the A. and S. Highlanders, but was subsequently transferred to the R. E. He has been in France since September 1915.
 
In November of last year he was wounded, but sufficiently recovered to again take his place in the fighting line, where he has now distinguished himself. His parents reside at 8 Lamb Street, Hamilton. Ref. Hamilton Advertiser. 26/10/1918 page 4. (Wilma S. Bolton 2012)