February 2012

Your letters

A long-lost Leeds

I was most interested in the article ‘Lost Industries of Leeds’ (Nov). My grandfather, Samuel Hargreaves, founded Armley Steam Mills in the late 1800s, it was later known as Armley Clothing Limited. It was in Carr Crofts, Armley near Armley Baths and Blakey Segs.

My grandfather died in 1928 and it was then run by my uncle Joe, Frank and my father Ernest. The factory produced boys’ and gents’ clothing and army uniforms. It had to close in the 1960s due mainly to Montague Burton offering better wages and conditions.

The machine room was very noisy but the girls insisted on music while they worked. Most of the cutting was done with the band saw in the cutting room, by Sam Wainwright, Henry Crowther and Harry Bather, and I have a pair of large heavy scissors from the factory.

I also have information on the Hargreaves family history if any reader thinks they are related.

Anne Wood (née Hargreaves), Scarborough

158 Squadron remembered

I refer to the article ‘Never Forgotten’ by Helen Johnson (Nov). The featured 158 Squadron apparently maintains an association for past members. I met Harold King some three years before his death in 2000 (his widow died five years later). They lived at Wakanae on the West Coast of New Zealand, just north of the capital of Wellington.

Harold, I recall, told me he flew as navigator in the Halifax named ‘Friday the 13th’ from the airfield at Lissett. I think he joined the Squadron in 1943. I understood he flew some 160 missions, apparently volunteering for a third
tour after completing his second, and I believe his pilot was named Smith (no relation of mine).

Although I qualified as an RAF navigator, it was too late for me to join a squadron. Harold and I seldom talked about wartime days. Our time together was spent mainly on the golf course.
I don’t know if the Squadron Association would be interested but I have an order of service from Harold’s funeral.

Ray Smith, Turangi, New Zealand

Reminiscing in Reeth

I was very interested to read W R Mitchell’s article about Kit Calvert (Sep), especially about Kit pouncing on a copy of John Ward’s Methodism in Swaledale in a Lancaster bookshop. I think the author was probably my great-grandfather, as he was the Methodist Minister in Reeth in 1864. My brother, also the Rev. John Ward but an Anglican, has a copy of one of his books. We had never heard of this particular book and would be interested to see a copy.

I have seen the outside of the chapel in Reeth as a Harrogate friend of mine, Margaret Greene (now deceased), rented
a cottage in Muker for a few weeks in the autumn and I used to stay with her for part of the time. We always enjoyed visiting Reeth.

Sheila Ward, Sheffield

Losing it

Reference the October issue and your advice “if you see a miserable Yorkshire-man or woman, tell them to go and buy
a Dalesman”. The anecdotes of Yorkshire humour are brilliant. I would just like
to quote a funny incident related to me by a former work colleague…

One of the security staff at Sheffield University had finished his duties in the geography building and as it was a fine summer evening he decided to take a shortcut through Weston Park before handing the geography master keys in
to the main building, which was the correct procedure.

As he threw the bunch of keys up and down, to his amazement they did not descend back into his hands as they had become stuck in the branch of a tree and he couldn’t reach them! He rushed into the main building and gasped to the man behind the desk ,“I’ve lost the master keys for the geography building up a tree.”

The man on the desk stared at him in utter disbelief and said “Tell me again, I can’t believe what I am hearing”.
The poor chap had to sneak out with an extending ladder then, in his panic, forgot which tree it was!

Bernard Wilkson, Sheffield

Spreading the joy of tea

I note with interest the letter from Lesley Purewal and her visit to the Vermont Country Store. Some years ago we also had occasion to visit this store while on a tour of the New England States but do not recollect seeing any Yorkshire Tea.

However, a day or so later we visited Sandwich. While most of our party visited a glass factory, I wandered around the vicinity and called in at a local tea shop. There were several items on display for sale, and then I noticed an open door to a stockroom and in plain view was a pile of Yorkshire Tea boxes.

This reminded me of the great late Sir Linton Andrews, well known editor of the Yorkshire Post, who once wrote in the paper that it was the duty of all Yorkshiremen to “lighten the darkness which afflicts the whole country south of the Trent”.

There was no exhortation to go beyond these shores, but missionary zeal knows no bounds!

Geoff Smith, Hereford

Craving curd tarts

After fifteen years in exile in an obscure southern town called London, I have come to rely on Dalesman to keep me in touch with my roots. The arrival of Morrison’s supermarkets a few years back caused great cheer and an expedition was mounted to their nearest outpost.

However, I was not able to track down the curd tarts of my East Riding childhood. Does any reader know of a bakery willing to export said delicacy to these alien lands beyond the borders of God’s Own Country?

Neil Barrett, by email

Childhood tram rides

On reading the article on the Shipley Glen Tramway (Dec) I felt impelled to write and thank you for a wonderful reminder. I was born and brought up in Colne. As a child, most of my Sunday School outings were to Shipley Glen in the late 1940s to mid 1950s. The journey was, of course, on public transport and we thought we would never get there! 

I well remember the shouts of “Hold on tight and keep your arms and legs in”, and of course the excitement and the speed of the little tramcar.

Mrs C Jackson (née Waddington), by email

Free to a good home

We have copies of the Dalesman from 1950 until the present day – almost complete – and are very happy to give them away to someone who can collect from the Masham area. Beware – they are heavy.

Jeni Cropper, tel 01765 658 301

New year’s eve traditions

Many thanks to all those people who wrote or emailed regarding my comment about ‘first footing’ in January – Editor. Here is a selection of your comments.

Ron Kirby of Knutsford says that the practice of taking a piece of coal to a house emanates from the Scottish celebration of Hogmanay. After midnight on New Year’s Eve a house is visited by a Firstfoot (the first person over the threshold), who brings the owner a piece of coal and a small piece of money, with the saying ‘Lang may your lum reek’ (Long may your chimney smoke). The wish is for a warm and wealthy future. The Firstfoot should traditionally be a dark-haired man, whilst the small piece of money would be a sixpenny piece – nowadays a five-penny piece is used.

John Holmes of Swineshead, Lincolnshire, says: “My forefathers were all from the Garsdale and Grisedale area of the Dales. The practice of ‘seeing in’ the New Year is an ancient custom and just before midnight on the last day of the year, the head of the house was ushered out of the house via the rear door and was allowed to enter again via the front door on the stroke of midnight, carrying a piece of coal, a slice of bread and a silver coin. This was a custom to ensure that the household would have fuel, food and prosperity in the year to come.

Mike Peel of Doncaster says he has been doing this for the fifty-two years he has been married. “At the same time I’ve also brought in a piece of greenery and a piece of wood – I believe these were to bring good luck and ensure you didn’t run short of anything in the coming year. However, the ‘after midnight’ has now gone from a minute or two after midnight to seven or eight hours after midnight!”
 
Laurie Wood of Surrey does things slightly differently: “Each New Year’s Eve a ‘dark stranger’ knocks on the door just after midnight. He is invited in, when he presents a piece of coal and a sprig of evergreen. The householder then ‘crosses his palm with silver’ and offers him a glass of whisky. Although we now live in Surrey we keep up the tradition. In Yorkshire we visited friends and neighbours ‘first footing’.”

Paul Ming of Whitby adds: “As a youngster living in Middlesbrough in the 1950s, I too was allowed to stay up on New Year’s Eve. Just before midnight I would be sent outside (when we had real winters) with a piece of coal, some salt and a sixpence. At midnight all the ships in the dock would blast their hooters and that was the sign to knock on the door and be let in with your gifts. You would be the first footer and everyone would then wish you and each other a happy New Year.
“The gifts represented warmth (coal), food (salt) and financial prosperity (sixpence) for the coming year. I know some houses had a ‘professional’ first footer who would let the New Year in, and as they usually had a drink at each house it could be some time before they got to you.”

Lynne Brunton of Seaford remembers growing up in Bradford in the 1940s and 1950s when her dad was much in demand on that night as he had jet black hair (must be a tall dark stranger). “He traditionally brought in coal but my father-in-law, who hailed from Harrogate, brought in coal for warmth, bread for food, holly for health and a coin for never being without money.
“These gifts were kept until the following New Year’s Eve when they were replaced with the new ones. These traditions (pagan I guess) now seem to have died out as my own children do not carry it on, nor do we for that matter.”

Barbara Buckley of Horsforth tells me: “I was an only child – with red hair as had both my parents. When courting my young man when I was nineteen we went to a dance on 31 December. At midnight I said ‘I must let my grandma’s New Year in’. I was totally unaware of the ritual so as we got near her home on a sleety, snowy night I said ‘I’ll go in first’. My boyfriend explained that he should go in first as I’d bring a whole year’s bad
luck on grandma!

“In fact, as we neared the door, we heard raised voices saying ‘Don’t let her in!’. So I had to stand outside, finding little shelter in the garden, feeling more stunned than cross. We eventually married and my husband let our New Year in every year till he died. I always remember that first time at nineteen… now at eighty-three the episode makes
me smile.”