Bermac Books - Northern Folk 2

The North of England is steeped in History and achievements of Engineers, Authors, Scientists who all made major achievements to our Industrial Heritage; creating wealth and prosperity of, not only the North of England; but also Great Britain and the rest of the world.
After the publication of 'Northern Folk in 2000, and after noting the interest in the book I realized that the north of England was still brimming with notable characters that contributed so much to the present well being of England and the rest of the world. Charles Parson's discovered the turbine that revolutionized engines and ocean going liners; putting this country ahead of rivals. In the beginning of the 1800 century our country relied on coal to produce power, work and hard earned currency abroad so that we could feed our young families; William Coulson and his men sank over a hundred Colliery's boring into an abundance of much needed coal. John Harrison with his accurate maritime clock made shipping easier and safer. Elliott Verdon Roe, and Sir Joseph Swan were leaders in aviation and incandesant lighting; Joseph Whitworth, John Smeaton and Bolckow and Vaughan, were specialists in their particular fields, all very necessary for the progress of our country. Robert Surtees wrote the 'History of Durham', and L.S. Lowry completed art that is now worth thousands of pounds; and much sought after. In conclusion George Hudson was an amazing man who developed the railways in England. Altogether there are twelve characters, all make compelling reading, and I spent many pleasant hours researching and writing about these dynamic people:

L. S. Lowry

1887 -1976

From the moment he was born, Laurence Stephen Lowry was not wanted. His mother, Elizabeth, had badly wanted a girl and his father wanted anything that his wife wanted and yet he went on to live until he was eighty-eight, his fame coming in the final twenty years of his life. Among the buyers of his paintings were royalty, the world’s largest art galleries and famous collectors, who paid massive sums for his paintings. Fame also came from elsewhere He was awarded an OBE, a knighthood, and made a Companion of Honour [TH1] .[TH2] He was also made a Royal Academician and invited to dine at Downing Street. The Hallé Orchestra celebrated his birthday with a special concert [TH3] and, after his death; a pop-song [TH4] was recorded about him which went to No. 1 in the charts. Three doctorates were awarded from universities and he was offered the freedom of the city of Salford.

[TH5]

Lowry wasn’t much bothered; some honours he accepted others he rejected. More important to him was the love he had striven to elicit from his mother, which she failed to give him. Elizabeth Hobson was born in March 1858 in Manchester to Ruthhetta [TH6] and William Hobson. Elizabeth’s father was a hatter and fairly prosperous. The family rented a series of red brick houses in the Oldham Road area of Manchester. This was where the manpower of the prosperous factories and mills lived during the industrial revolution. This area was where his grandson Lawrence got his inspiration for many of his paintings. He depicted children running barefoot, women old and grey before their time, fighting and brawling drunken men, and of course, pawnbrokers.

.Elizabeth, being prone to bronchitis and ‘lassitude’ received special attention from her father and mother. She went on to be very bright at school and at the age of eight was awarded a first prize for merit. Her father, who doted on her, died when she was eleven His wife died of consumption ten years later in 1879. William Hobson and his wife left an estate of £1,500 in trust until the boys were twenty-one, or the girls married [l7] . The family carried on the hatters business with the profits equally divided

Elizabeth progressed well over these years [TH8] , mainly in music. She gave lessons and was giving lessons and studied further, attending lectures [TH9] covering such topics as ‘Characteristic sketches of Great Musicians’, and ‘The History of Pianoforte playing’. She also attended organ recitals and received advanced music lessons from a Mr. R. Leicester. Contact was made with such people as William Morris, George Bernard Shaw, and Kropotkin the Russian who had fled his homeland to teach botany and biology in Manchester. These were the years when Ford Maddox Brown painted a series of murals in the large room at Manchester Town Hall to commemorate the history of the city. At this time Manchester was also a renowned centre for music. Charles Hallé had arrived from Paris [TH10] , forming the famous orchestra. Frédéric Chopin performed in the Gentleman’s Concert Hall, where the Midland Hotel now stands. Adolph Brodsky, the great Russian violist,[TH11] was a professor at Manchester College of Music, where Carl Fuchs taught the cello. Richard Strauss also visited Manchester during this period.

Although Elizabeth was a very good musician, her career never really took off. She did, however, become a well-known accompanist to the best voices of the day and a very patient teacher of music but her bronchial attacks became more and more frequent and her lassitude more pronounced. She did marry in ????, to Robert Lowry [TH12] at St. Andrews church in Blackley [TH13] They had a short honeymoon in Lytham, after which they set up home at 8 Barratt Street, Old Trafford.

Laurence Stephen Lowry [TH14] was born 1 November 1887. Like the rest of the Lowrys [TH15] he was prone to a weak chest resulting in coughs and colds in abundance. What is also known is that his mother asked when he was born, ‘Is it a girl?’ and when told that it was a boy, she cried uncontrollably. When she could bear to look at him she thought that he was ugly but his father adored him on sight. Lowry’s own recollection of his youth was full of gloom. He recalled no happy memories of his childhood, only ‘poverty, and gloom. My early life was not nice at all, none of my pictures are happy! You will never see the sun in any of them’[TH16] . Lowry also said he never received any presents on his birthday, nor at Christmas. It was, however, noticeable that he owned many books inscribed with ‘best wishes’ and with his mother’s and father’s love.

Lowry later said that he was a horrible child and that his father had wanted to throw him out of the window because he would not stop crying when he was five months old. He also said that his father just sat on the sidelines; he never saw him very pleased nor did he see him very annoyed with anything. His father’s reaction to his own sister’s death was remarkable, ‘I suppose I better go to the funeral’, he said, on being told the news and then went on to say, ‘You know, it happens to all of us’, then, ‘I don’t see why I should go to the funeral’, and he didn’t.

Robert Lowry tried to recruit young Laurence to the junior football team at St.Clement’s. Laurence found it hard to make friends and was regarded as a bit of a snob by some. Others said he threw himself all over the place when put in goal, the other team did not score at all and he was treated as a hero. He went home covered in mud and his mother nearly had a fit. They tried to get him to play again but he refused.

In 1903 when Lowry was fifteen it was debated what direction in life he should take. Sometimes his father took him to the Art Gallery [TH17] , but at the time he wasn’t very interested although it had been noted that he drew and doodled a great deal At home the only picture they had was an oleograph portrait of Beethoven. He begged to enrol at art school and started in the freehand drawing class, moving on to other classes as time went on. When he was sufficiently advanced, he moved up to the life class where he studied life drawings for twelve years.

Robert Lowry’s employer, Jacob Earnshaw, died on October, 1908, and Robert sat back waiting for promotion and the partnership that he had been promised years before. It never occurred to him that he would not get the promotion but when it did not come, a deep sense of disappointment came over Robert from which he never recovered. His eyes and moustache drooped; characteristics that were more noticeable in photographs rather than in his son’s painting of him. xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

By 1909 Robert accepted that the family must tighten their purse strings and moved to 117 Station Road, a four-bedroom house on the other side of town [l18] with an annual rent of £26. Laurence, at this time, had found a job as a claims clerk for General Accident Fire & Theft Insurance Corporation, with an annual salary of £46.16s 0d; a high percentage of which went to pay for pencils, paints, brushes, paper and fees for his art classes.

It was in 1912 that Laurence completed a pastel called Mill Worker and two oils, of Morning and Evening, views looking south to Pendlebury from Clifton Junction; there was also a view of factory chimneys with no figures.

Lowry’s father was burdened with debt at this time. He tried everything to preserve the status quo, borrowing from friends and family and raising money from life insurance policies and moneylenders. This was the time of the great slump in England and the Great War but the war seems to have passed Lowry senior [l19] by. When asked why he did not enlist he would say, ‘They would not have me.’ Questioned further he said he had been declared unfit for active service. After a medical on 10 April 1916, at Bury Barracks he was classed as grade 3B and exempted from all duties except Garrison Duty. His problem was flat feet.

From his early college days, Laurence Lowry enjoyed a close friendship with George Parker Fletcher, at the time a bachelor. Like Lowry, he was devoted to music and the arts, also the theatre and hiking. But George soon married and Lowry made friends with his brother, Frank Joplin Fletcher, a photographer who also studied his craft at Manchester School of Art. He was roughly the same age as Lowry and had similar tastes. They were soon visiting musical events together: the Hallé Orchestra at the Free Trade Hall, where they heard and Grieg’s ‘Posthumous Quartet’. They went to Horniman’s Repertory Company to see the young Sybil Thorndike in Hindle Wakes. Lowry completed a portrait of Frank Joplin Fletcher which remained behind the wardrobe until after his death in 1955, when his son, Philip, presented it to Salford City Art Gallery. Lowry failed to respond to Frank’s death, did not attend the funeral or even send flowers. He did the same when George Fletcher died in 1967 aged ninety-one. Phillip Fletcher [l20] was hurt tremendously by Lowry’s lack of sympathy for his friends.

By the end of the war Lowry was thirty-one years of age and until then had not exhibited a single painting. Now, as a member of the Academy [TH21] , he submitted three works for inclusion in the annual exhibition at Manchester City Art Gallery. The exhibition took place in February [l22] and Lowry’s pictures were accepted. They were Portrait of an Old Woman, 15 guineas; Landscape, 6 guineas and Pencil Drawing, 4 guineas. Although Lowry did get a mention from The Manchester News [TH23] reviewer, he did not make a sale. Portrait of an old Woman now hangs on the same gallery walls on permanent loan and was insured in 1959 for £7,500. Not only did contemporaries rubbish Lowry’s work, they sneered and laughed out loud. One of those that laughed loudest was Maxwell Reekie (later vice-president of the academy) a large Scotsman who painted Scottish Castles. Another was James Chettle, who had rather large ears and painted water colours and who later Lowry spoke well of.

After the 1919 Manchester City Art exhibition Lowry didn’t bother to exhibit any work for two years. He drew A Woman in a Hat, giving it to a Master Percy Warburton [TH24] , whom he later befriended. Lowry completed one or two street scenes over this period and he took them to The Manchester Guardian reviewer for his opinion. Taylor [TH25] said, ‘This will never do. You’ll have to do better than that. Can’t you paint the figures on a light background?’ ‘How do I do that?’ asked Lowry. ‘It’s for you to find out’ was Taylor’s reply. Lowry, very angry, went home and completed two pictures on chalky white background, commenting, ‘That will teach him.’

Ironically this became the Lory trademark, his figures standing out from an almost chalky white background. In 1924 Lowry conducted an experiment. He painted a piece of wood flake- white six times and allowed it to dry. It was left six or seven years after being sealed. At the end of that time the same procedure was followed and the newly painted wood was lily white, the other being a beautiful creamy, grey-white. The point he was making was that the best of his paintings would survive him.

Lowry observed the painting of William Strang over this period. It was extremely chalky and he wondered how it was possible to exhibit it. Lowry saw the same painting at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool. The white had changed to a beautiful creamy white [l26] . The exhibition continued for two weeks and Lowry never [l27] sold a painting. The oils were priced at £25, the smallest was £5. In 1921 most were not available under £1,500: The Lodging House, a strong pastel listed at ten guineas was bequeathed to Salford City Art Gallery, where it hangs in the permanent collection and is insured for £1,500 [l28] . A flake white print called Sudden Illness was sold by the artist t [l29] o the collector Monty Bloom in the 1950s for £4,000, but after only two days he bought it back for £6,000. Hawkers Cart, is in the Royal Scottish Academy in Edinburgh and Pit Disaste went to Geoffrey Bennett in Carlisle. A Doctors Waiting Room was bought by Salford [l30] in 1959; originally priced at ten guineas, it cost £7,000. Coming out of School, was bought by the Duveen Fund for the Tate Gallery.

Lowry’s father was more aware of his son’s early success than his mother, and it brought him much pride and joy, Robert kept reviews of his son’s achievements from the newspapers. It was Lowry’s father who inspired him to make one of his best drawings, Saint Simons Church; Robert told his son that it was due to be demolished. Elizabeth’s attitude to her sons painting was rather curious and she rated his industrial scenes as quite without merit. Lowry received a letter asking him if he could write art criticism for a newspaper. When he showed his mother she laughed uncontrollably. When he actually did sell anything his father remarked, ‘This can’t go on; it will go to his head.’ His mother was always rather bewildered by his success. Lowry’s happy days ended when his father died in 1932, the year that he was first accepted by the Royal Academy. On Wednesday, 10 February 1932, Robert Stephen Lowry died of pneumonia at 117 Station Road, Pendlebury aged seventy-four, and Laurence was present. Robert had had a heavy cold over Christmas and Lowry saw him get progressively worse.

Lowry’s mother, now seventy-three, took to her sick bed and stayed there for seven and a half years, relying solely on her son to care for her, which brought him to a state of near derangement. Lowry sketched a simple cross for the stonemason to be made in granite to mark his fathers grave in Southern Cemetery in south Manchester, where all of the family are now buried.

When Robert died there were quite a few unpaid debts. The rent was outstanding, along with the gas bill, and a small overdraft at the bank. A debt to John Earnshaw was owed because Robert had not been able to work. After Robert died Earnshaw approached Lowry for payment. Robert left his wife a total of £534.4.5d, mainly insurance policies from which he had heavily borrowed. Furniture was valued at £25 and he had £1.2.5d in his pocket. His house was rented. Elizabeth knew nothing of Roberts’s debts, not even that to his young nephew, Willy Hobson, the son of her elder brother Edward. Although a poorly paid window-cleaner, Willy did not pursue the matter after his uncle’s death, saying of him that he was a brave, good and kind man. Lowry himself thought it a disgrace and never spoke of his father’s debts; by April 1932 he had repaid them all.

In 1934 Lowry was elected as a member of the Royal Society of British Artists after exhibiting with them in 1933. His work was now travelling throughout England. A Hawkers Cart was exhibited at Rochdale in 1931, Going Home from the Mill by invitation went to Southport in 1932, The Lodging House and A Football Match, were shown in Bradford 1933 and in Oldham in 1936 six paintings were included in a mixed exhibition. In the same year two of his works, Street Singers, and In Salford were selected from the Royal Academy and other London exhibitions for a show at Huddersfield Art Gallery; three more, The Playground, Brokers Shop and Market Square were shown in the spring exhibitions of works by Lancashire artists at the Harris Museum and Art Gallery in Preston.

The fact that Lowry could now put RBA [l31] after his name did not increase his selling price. In 1937, however, Lowry was approaching his fiftieth birthday. He was grateful for a sale every now and then, although he had yet to show a financial profit against the rising cost of materials, frames and travel. Lowry painted solely to attempt to change his mother’s opinion of him. He was raised in the belief that his mother had an instinctive eye for beauty and he acknowledged that judgment. If she saw only ugliness in what he achieved then it must be so, in spite of what others said, and only her changing her opinion of his work would make it any better. On 12 October 1939, his mother died unhappy to the end. She was eighty-three years of age. According to people closely associated with her she died as she lived, a spoilt stubborn, petulant woman who even in death refused to recognise what others freely acknowledged that her son was a great artist and had brought honour to her name.

Lowry shut off her bedroom retaining it as a living memory. There was no consolation for him as his fame came too late in life to change the opinion that his mother had for his work. At fifty-two Lowry was still a bachelor, living alone in the old house. He found it easier to show kindness than to receive it. He made friends with a family living near to him, the Leatherbarrows. Lowry asked if he could take their thirteen-year daughter to the pantomime and they readily agreed. Lowry took Kathleen Leatherbarrow to the Palace Theatre in Manchester early in 1940. The pantomime became a yearly occasion, until Kathleen joined the Wrens at eighteen. The friendship lasted until Kathleen married in 1948. Lowry had a photograph of her on his piano in a Wren’s uniform. He also painted a portrait of her in uniform and refused all offers for it. Later, when Kathleen was asked about the relationship, she said that it seemed that he was enjoying the youth in her and what he himself had missed earlier in his life.

Margery Thompson was another young lady who used to accompany Lowry and Kathleen to the theatre. She said that he used to enjoy the occasion tremendously, so much so that on one occasion he opened the taxi door too soon and hit a lamppost. After the show the girls were taken for tea to the Squirrels Restaurant in Oxford Street, ‘This is where the waiter drew the chairs out for us to sit on them’, said Margery.

On 1 November 1957 Lowry’s seventieth birthday, a photograph of Lowry and a portrait of a young woman appeared in The Manchester Guardian. The girl was dark and slim with her hair parted at the centre and drawn behind her ears. This said Lowry was his first portrait for over thirty years. He named it Portrait of Ann. The newspaper reporter was curious, but all Lowry would say was that she was twenty-five years of age. The portrait was a surprise for the Royal Academy, as everybody had known Lowry for his landscapes. For the first time Lowry was experiencing people asking about the sitter, as people do about Mona Lisa. Lowry said that she was his godchild, Ann Hilder. People also enquired about the young girl with the long black plait whose picture hung above Lowry’s piano in the front room. He said that she was a friend of his from Lytham St Anne’s. She had died when still a girl and Lowry cried when talking about her.

His removal from Station Road came at long last.[TH32] This was a dark house full of memories, with his mother’s room remaining locked since her death. After Robert had died, Louis Duffy acquired the property and carried on a strange relationship with his tenants. Sometimes his wife visited Elizabeth and was given as a parting gift of one of Lowry’s paintings: Is it any good?’ her husband would ask. ‘I’ll give you a bob for it.’ Lowry always used to say that all of his paintings were good. Duffy began to get complaints from other neighbours about the overgrown garden and dirty windows. Eventually he convinced Lowry to swap houses with him. Lowry had seen two deaths in the house and he didn’t need all the space; Duffy’s family was growing up and needed more space.

In a short while [l33] , Lowry commenced his life at 72 Chorley Road. He never really settled there and later [TH34] friends advised him that a house had become vacant at a village called Mottram-in-Longandale on the fringe of the Derbyshire peaks, and this is where Lowry made his new home. Almost at once he started painting, producing Laying a Foundation Stone, which Salford City people said was an insult to Lancashir [l35] e. Lowry enjoyed telling the story. He had been invited to attend a ceremony commemorating the laying of the foundation stone of a new school at Clifton and subsequently commission a painting. When he got there, he was confronted by four rows of children looking the picture of pure misery, the vicar looking ill, gazed in bewilderment as if he wished they were all elsewhere and the mayor, weighed down by his chain of office, looked as if he wished it were all over. Lowry said that he had to leave, so he could have a good laugh, but someone kept bringing him back into the room in case he missed the unveiling of the foundation stone. Ultimately, Lowry completed his picture and showed it to the mayor who surprisingly liked it very much. The city fathers were very annoyed – and showed it. Things were made worse when Manchester City [TH36] bought the painting. The vicar, Canon Fletcher, was irate, telling Lowry that he was no gentleman, making fun of us like this. Lowry replied that he was entitled to paint what he saw. Lowry was accused of exaggerating the size of people’s feet, to which he replied that everybody seemed to have big feet. A year later a picture appeared in a shop window off St. Anne’s Square, it was of a dog with five legs; ‘Well I never,’ said Lowry, ‘I checked it very carefully before I let it go. It must have had five legs, because I only paint what I see.’

About this time [TH37] Lowry retired from his job as a cashier book-keeper at Pall Mall [TH38] . He had a yearly pension of £200, but when the chairman of the company asked him if he would award the pension to another member of the company who had fallen on bad times Lowry readily agreed. His work was now exhibited world-wide, as far away as Japan and New York, where he had an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in 1959 as well as the Robert Osborne Gallery, where the exhibition was entitled ‘The Englishness of English Painting’.

Lowry rejected many honours offered to him in his later years. They were forthcoming when Harold Macmillan was prime minister and in 1955 he was offered an OBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list. Harold Wilson who put him forward for a CBE in 1960and in 1967 again approached him, this time offering a knighthood. All these he politely declined. Lowry said that all of his life he had been opposed to social distinctions of any kind. Consequently, he said that he must regretfully decline any honours. A year later [l39] Edward Heath wrote to him, tactfully asking him if he would be made a Companion of Honour. Lowry replied saying that he had at all times tried to paint to the best of his ability and that he hoped he would be always remembered for this work rather than any honour that he had collected on the journey. Lowry also turned down an invitation from Harold Wilson to dine at 10 Downing Street. Wilson seemed to be slow in getting the message because he contacted Lowry again. Lowry responded by insisting that he wished to live the remainder of his life in peace free from publicity, which these honours would undoubtedly bring. He continued to repulse the belated attention from the establishment that he was now receiving.

Over the latter part of his life Lowry was attracted to many young ladies one in particular, Carol Ann Lowry (no relation) was the only child of William and Mattie who were born in Rochdale. When their marriage ended, Mattie lived on her own with her daughter. For years Mattie worked to give Carol Ann a good education, sending her to private schools. Carol was very artistic and Harold Hemingway [TH40] advised Mattie to write to Lowry because he had the same name. Months later Lowry called unexpected at their home and so started a long friendship. Lowry paid her fees at the convent, helped with the rent and also arranged for Saturday morning classes at Rochdale College of Art where his friend, Leo Solomon was principal. On Lowry’s death, Carol Ann was left the majority of Lowry’s estate.

Lowry had painted mill scenes for thirty years and now [TH41] it seemed that no one wanted them anymore. During a one- man show in London, on 11 October 1961, it was headlined in the Daily Herald that hoards of cheque- wielding admirers of the artist were trying to buy one of his paintings [TH42] on hearing that he was about to retire; mistaking the change of direction in his style for retirement. Experts said that this kind of thing usually only happened when an artist died. All he had done was change direction, accepting that he had exploited industrial scenes for long enough.

It seemed a lifetime since his first one-man exhibition, forty years ago at Mosley Street [l43] , when he did not sell one picture. Yet within an hour of opening on 11 October, more than a dozen pictures had been sold for over £1,000. By 1956 McNeil Reid [l44] was pleading with Lowry for his pictures, saying ‘I don’t suppose you have a tiny industrial painting lying about.’ Lowry confided to Frank Mullineux [TH45] that the industrial scenes had passed out of his mind. ‘I could do it now, but I have no desire to.’ Appearing on Tyne Tees Television later,[TH46] Lowry elaborated that sincere emotion showed in all of his paintings, each having a story to tell, as the titles indicate: The Man Drinking Water, Man fallen down a Hole, Lady in a Straw Hat without a Dog, The Business Man Lying Full Stretch on a Bench.

Lowry announced his retirement from painting soon after his eightieth birthday. He was not so much laying down his brushes as retreating from the world he found himself in. Lowry was tired: tired of work from which there was now no release and tired of his meaningless fame. Now, all he wished was peace and to pass his remaining years with his friends.

Even in retirement Lowry was making vast sums of money. In 1972 his paintings earned him £65,000 giving him a net total of £50,000 [l47] . For all this his lifestyle remained modest. His annual sundry expenses amounted to only £47. His lighting bill was only £69, he did not drink or smoke, and he possessed only three suits, one being spattered with paint. He once went to dinner at the Ritz Hotel in London and had an overwhelming desire to order egg and chips, especially when being served by a superior waiter. He kept his house temperatures sub zero, saying he never felt the cold. When art dealers came from the south he made this into a game, forgetting to put the electric fire on in his freezing sitting room, then watching their expressions and how long it took for their noses to turn blue or teeth to chatter, using the length of time before they complained of the cold as a yardstick for their greed, One extravagance he did have was taxis, even using one to travel as far as Sunderland [l48] . Taxi drivers used to barter for his business; as much for his interesting conversation as for the money.

Lowry was well respected. In 1975 Sir John Bateman wrote the following in a letter to the Manchester Guardian: ‘I would like to mention a Manchester subject. He is L. S. Lowry, he is eighty, unmarried with no heirs; his paintings are so good that a permanent exhibition should be made, like Van Gogh in Amsterdam or the Rodin Museum in Paris.’ The following morning the Manchester Guardian, commented that most British painters had to wait until they were dead before this kind of thing happened; L. S. Lowry was luckier than most it was said. Lowry laughed out loud on reading the report, but for years it was seriously considered.

Lowry was not frightened to die but the manner of his passing concerned him, He was known to say ‘A married man lives like a dog and dies like a king. A bachelor lives like a king and dies like a dog.’ He had seen friends and family lose their fights for life; the Fletcher brothers, Frank and George, his mother and father whom he missed tremendously right through his life - now it was his turn. In the early hours of Monday, 23 February 1976, nine days after his admission into hospital, Lawrence Stephen Lowry died in his sleep of pneumonia, following a stroke. He had been a burden to no one; he died as he had lived, with humour dignity and courage. The funeral was held on Friday 27 February. The press was there in scores, as well as artists, dealers, collectors and friends. The Reverend Geoffrey Bennett read the twenty third psalms and thanked God for Lowry’s life, work, and friends. It was a grey dismal day in Southern Cemetery, Manchester when Lowry was laid to rest, in the same plot as his father and mother.

There was some interest in where the majority of Lowry’s estate would go. He left a small Rossetti painting to his faithful friend and solicitor Alfred Hulme, £1,000 to Bessie Swindles [TH49] , four paintings as promised to Salford Art Gallery [TH50] , and an inlaid Tompion Grandfather clock (which turned out to be a partial fake) to Geoffrey Bennett, the vicar. To Carol Ann Lowry he left his prize painting Proserpine plus the remainder of his estate, valued at £298,459. Of his godchild Ann there was no mention.

The value of Lowry’s paintings soared after his death. He had produced between eight and nine hundred oil paintings and three thousand drawings. By the first anniversary of his death prices had stabilised, by the second the prices had held. His constant question had been ‘Will I live?’ He said it would take a hundred years. His paintings have already survived his detractors and his genius outlives all his critics

1803 - 1859

n the early 1820s, the most popular method to ‘get rich quick’ was to find gold or silver and many companies were formed for this purpose, particularly to look for gold in South America. In these early days of gold and silver exploration though, there was a scarcity of good professional men to manage the projects, and so young mining engineers with limited experience were made very tempting propositions by big companies. One such company was the Colombian Mining Association, who had interests in two mines named Santa-Anne and La-Manta, these mines were situated about twelve miles from Mariquito, a fine old city in South America. At this time it was deserted and run down, but still showing signs of being a noble city. Very near to the mines was the village of Santa-Anne.

In October 1823, George Stephenson was approached by the directors of the Colombian Mining Association to act as their consultant, in Columbia, engaging miners and inspectors, as well as shipping iron. However, it was Robert Stephenson that their confidence really lay in and it was soon made known to George Stephenson that they wished Robert to be Engineer in Chief for the project.

At the same time, the Stephenson’s Forth Street works in Newcastle was quickly expanding with the growth of the locomotion; Robert Stephenson had shown strength of character and perseverance as manager of the works and it had obviously not gone unnoticed. Indeed, the works seemed as if it would not run without him, even so, romantic travel at the time fascinated Robert and he agreed to take the job.

George Stephenson strongly opposed Robert’s venture to Santa-Anne, he even questioned it on medical grounds, because of Roberts’s constitution, but Robert’s physician said he would thrive, especially with the change of climate. George Stephenson reluctantly gave his consent, and after an emotional departure, Robert sailed from Liverpool on the 18 June 1824. The voyage lasted thirty-five days and after a pleasant trip Robert docked at La-Guayra on the north coast of Venezuela. From Venezuela he travelled to Caracas, fifteen miles inland and stayed there for two months, which he spent investigating the strata in the area.

As the roads were in a very bad state he was not able to travel immediately. It was not until October that he commenced his journey to Bogotá. The route was through very rough terrain and there was known to be outlaws in the area who preyed on unfortunate travellers. Robert rode on a mule and progress was very slow but he did make sure that he was well armed. He took with him an interpreter, and a black servant. Robert checked on strata and ground conditions whenever he could while travelling, and the guide pointed out old mining shafts that had at one time yielded deposits of gold.

Robert appeared to have enjoyed the mule journey very much, in fact, everything about the journey fascinated him – the local dress, the beauty and panoramic scenery; he found it all breathtaking. Nights were spent in the open air with his mosquito net hung from the branches of a tree. Robert always wore an under garment of white cotton with a cloak of blue woollen material, which doubled as a blanket at night. On his head he wore a high hat of plaited grass which was circled with a wide brim. He certainly did not look anything like an engineer’s son from the north of England.

Robert Stephenson carefully logged the route taken on his journey, paying particular attention to the best possible route for the machinery, which he knew, would have to follow. He carried out his observations very carefully. In 1825, his party finally reached their destination. Before them were two long abandoned mines, La-Manta and Santa-Anne, they had become lost in vegetation. They were previously Spanish owned and worked. Robert soon got to work on opening the mines and his unstoppable energy meant the mines would be ready for the Cornish miners already on their way from England.

Roads had to be cut to the mines and overgrowth removed, good workers were hard to come by in the area. Many obstacles were put in his way, especially from rival companies. Robert longed for the arrival of the Cornish miners, whom he knew he would get a fair day’s work from. Unfortunately, when they did arrive, the Cornish miners were nowhere near as good as those he was used to from north of England. They were always under the influence of alcohol and would not respond to any kind of discipline. To add to the disappointment, the machinery he had ordered from England was far too heavy and awkward to get to the mines at Santa-Anne. Robert had to make do with lighter machinery, and then send for machinery in England which he knew could be transported and still carry out the work required.

By October 1825 there were enough men in Santa-Anne to do the work required. However, it was thought that the wages for the contract were far too high and some miners even returned home because they had made enough money. It was also thought amongst the miners that the youthful Robert Stephenson would not be capable of carrying out this difficult project and his connections with the northern coal fields caused Robert to be treated with contempt by the Cornish men.

One night early in December 1825, Robert retired to his house totally exhausted. As he drifted into a deep sleep, he suddenly heard loud yelling; the Cornish miners had entered the front room of his house, and were shouting abuse. Robert lay for a while working out what his approach to the miners should be. He wanted to avoid an all out stoppage. The miners insulted Robert in their drunken stupor to such an extent that he knew he would have to confront them or they would think he was afraid. Robert was taunted further by the men, ‘let’s put this clerk in his place’, he heard just as he decided to finally confront them. He strode directly into the room and keeping as calm as possible approached the ring leaders of the mob saying that it was unfair, on his part, to fight at this time as they were drunk and he was sober. He challenged them to come back the following day. They could not believe their eyes, here was a young clerk confronting hard Cornish miners in a calm and collected manner.

The following day Robert had further trouble with the miners. He contacted London and the Columbian Mining Association, checking on his authority in disputes. An urgent message was returned confirming that he was in overall control of the miners’ interests, and informing him to demand prompt obedience. Robert let this be known to the miners, but tried a new approach with them. He had always been good at games such as throwing the hammer, quoits and lifting weights, he suggested to the men that they would have a better social life doing these things and he challenged them to contests. This led to friendly rivalry among the men, as well as having the desired effect of keeping them temporarily away from alcohol. Robert had now spent a full year on the project in Mariquita-Santa-Ana, striving to make it a success for the Colombian Association. Unfortunately, some of the directors of the Association were putting extreme pressure on him to get better results. Robert, aged only twenty two, took these experiences in his stride, knowing he would have similar situations on his return to England.

Letters from his father and other directors informed him that the Columbian Association had lost a great deal of money on this venture. As soon as Robert reached the end of his contract period, July 1827, he suggested the Association appoint another engineer in his place. Robert felt that he should return to Newcastle so that he could face any criticism that may be circulating at that time. The company, in retaliation, requested Robert t stay on the project. Ultimately, he rejected the offer and made ready to return home. Robert Stephenson left Santa-Anne and made his way to Carthegena where he thought he would find a ship heading for England. Unfortunately, he was disappointed; instead he found a ship making ready to sail for America, docking at New York. He booked a passage on this hoping to get a connection from there to England and home. On arrival at Carthagena, Robert met up with Trevithick the Welshman who invented the first passenger locomotive; he joined Roberts’s party travelling to America. On the voyage the ship was hit by a hurricane before arriving at New York. From New York the party travelled to Montreal, Canada, where Robert changed into European Costume and mixed with the best in society. Finally he returned to New York where he boarded a ship for Liverpool. On returning home in 1828, he found his father doing very well and laying his second public railway.

Robert’s spell in South America did him the world of good, as his physician said it would, making him self reliant, and broadening his mind. Whilst in Columbia, Robert met some eminent people such as Dr. Rouelin, a mathematician and M. Boussingault a chemist and geologist. On his return, he was bronzed and looked extremely well for his trip and, if anything, the experience had refreshed and strengthened his resolve ready for the work that lay before him - the development of the railways in this country.

Robert Stephenson had many downturns in his life, but he also had many great and successful periods, especially in bridge building and politics, when he served many years as MP for Whitby; he was returned as their representative on the 30 July, 1847.

Prior to leaving for Santa Ana, Robert met Fanny Sanderson, the daughter of Mr John Sanderson of Broad Street, London. In 1828, Robert proposed and they lived, before getting married, on the outskirts of Newcastle, 5 Greenfield Place. They married 17 June 1829 at Parish Church, Bishopgate.

The year 1842 was a terrible year for Robert, his wife, Fanny, died of cancer, 4 October and was interred at Hampstead church yard. In the same year he was also threatened with insolvency.

The Stanhope and Tyne Rail Company was formed to develop and manage the areas where the railways were destined to operate. Robert took payment of ten shares in the company, when acting as a consultant, not realising the implications. When the company was making losses the creditors could come to him for payment of anything over and above these shares – this very nearly ruined him. Luckily, this was the expansion time for the railways and another company Pontop and South Shields Company, bought all of the shares in the troubled company. A further upheaval came in 1848, with the loss of his father, George Stephenson. Robert and George had been more than father and son, they had also been partners in business and life, and they loved each other a great deal.

On 12 October 1859, aged sixty-seven, Robert Stephenson died. He had been visiting the opening of the Norwegian Railway, and was returning home in his yacht, Titania. His health deteriorated on board the yacht, and his friends feared for his life. Robert rallied and managed to get home to Gloucester Square, London, where he eventually died. The cause of death was aggravated jaundice followed by dropsy of the whole system.

So ended the life of one of the greatest engineers of all time, who together with his father left an infrastructure of bridges, engines and a railway system for which England will always be indebted to. Unfortunately, Robert always regretted having no children to pass on his worldly possessions.

John Smeaton was making important discoveries very early on in the Industrial Revolution. He was born in 1724 at Austhorpe Lodge, near Leeds, the son of William Smeaton, a very eminent and prosperous lawyer, who never thought for a moment that his son John would become a great engineer, a builder of lighthouses, bridges, canals, and harbours and eventually a Fellow of the Royal Society.

William Smeaton wished his son to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, an occupation that had provided him with a very prosperous life. The difference between John Smeaton and those who followed him like Stephenson, Brunel, Telford, Fairbairn, Rennie and Brindley, was that they had a constant struggle with adversity, having to educate themselves, and scraping by, earning money even to nourish themselves. Brindley, for instance, was more or less illiterate all his life. Whereas Smeaton was different, having education and finance at his disposal, all he had to do was to overcome the pressures put on him by his father to become a lawyer.

Austhorpe was a beautiful house, built by Smeaton’s grandfather in the parish of Whitkirk and where John Smeaton was born on June 8 1724. A brother born in 1727 died at five years and a sister born five years later survived for only one year, making John an only child .There were no other children where John grew up, consequently he acquired many older people’s habits. From a young age he designed and made things. As early as six years old he studied a local windmill then constructed a smaller version of his own, climbing to the top of his father’s barn so it got the maximum wind in its sails. Machinery fascinated John.

William Smeaton eventually gave in to his son’s obsession, thinking that if the boy was so keen on engineering he should have a workshop and every tool imaginable to further his interest. John used the tools to great effect, making other and better tools for all kinds of uses and complicated functions. He was given tuition in reading and writing and showed an interest in mathematics from an early age. When he was old enough, he attended Leeds Grammar School where it was found he had a natural aptitude for mathematics, in particular geometry. He was also very good at drawing. When he was sixteen John left school. Knowing fully that his father wished that he followed him in the family legal business he eventually joined the firm, although his love for mechanics and engineering far outweighed his interest in the legal profession.

There was a coal mine very near to the Smeaton home, at Garforth, and it was here that John Smeaton first saw a steam engine. One of the main problems with early coal mining was that after rain most of the mine would be flooded .At about this time Thomas Newcomen invented a primitive steam engine for this purpose of [l1] ……… This engine attracted John’s interest. He sketched it from every angle, then went home, and produced a working model of the engine. To test the capabilities of the machine he tried it on his father’s fish pond. It did so well it killed all of his father’s fish! William Smeaton was not amused, but marvelled at his son’s genius in constructing the engine just on sight.

Solely to please his father John attended the office in Leeds, where his tasks were mainly copying legal documents and learning general law. In the evenings he worked until late at night in his workshop. His father began to feel that John would never learn law in Leeds so arranged for him to go to London where he could attend the courts at Westminster Hall – well away from his workshop.

John Smeaton left for London in the autumn of 1742. He loved his father tremendously and no one could say that he didn’t give his father’s profession a try, working hard in legal circles during the day. But in his own time in the evenings, he attended libraries, reading endlessly on the subjects that interested him – mostly mechanics. Smeaton missed his workshop so much that he wrote a well-presented letter to his father informing him that he wished to give up law and follow a career as a mechanical engineer. William Smeaton showed that he was a reasonable man and that he also loved his son. He admired the way his son had tried in London and, though disappointed, gave him permission to follow his own interests. He also awarded him a very generous allowance which carried on for the rest of John’s life. William Smeaton played a very important part in furthering his son’s career. Without his help John Smeaton might never have achieved the marvels he did.

John was overjoyed at his father’s support, quickly resigned his lawyer’s position and entered the service of an instrument- maker to learn the trade. He also began to attend meetings of the Royal Society and through it met many famous scientists. As early as July 26 1750, Smeaton read his first paper to the Society, in which he described improvements to the mariner’s compass. In 1751, he invented an instrument for measuring the speed of ships at sea. Other papers read to the Royal Society included one on air pumps, another one on pulleys and tackle and yet another on steam engines.

In 1754, when he was thirty, Smeaton was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, a high distinction for one so young and an indication of the esteem other members held him in. This was also the year that he began learning French, mainly to read French books on mechanics

Smeaton also began to take a keen interest in the civil engineering of docks, canals, harbours and drainage and navigation safety. Belgium and Holland were more advanced than England in these fields, so, John travelled cheaply on foot and by canal barge, noting and sketching Dutch dykes and canal systems. He thought the docks and harbours of Amsterdam were amazing. In London, ships had to wait for the tides to go alongside the wharf and set out to sea In Amsterdam the tides could be ignored; the docks were kept full by means of locks. The notes and sketches Smeaton made were of immense use, not only to himself but also to the country in general and he used these effectively later in his career.

John always had a great respect for the sea, realising that dock and sea walls had to be constructed with great strength to withstand storms, tides and the enormous power of the sea. This appreciation was to be vital to the success of what is undoubtedly his greatest achievement, the construction of the Eddystone Lighthouse.

If you look at a map of the English Channel and draw a line between The Lizard in Cornwall and Start Point in west Devon, it will pass very near to the infamous reef known as the Eddystone Rock. Most of it lies some twelve to fourteen feet below water at low tide and it is covered completely at spring tides. The Eddystone Reef lies across the course of channel shipping, especially those ships heading for Plymouth. It was responsible for the wreck of hundreds of ships with valuable cargoes, not to mention the lives of thousands of seamen. .A lighthouse had been built on the rock as early as 1698. Prior to this, ship owners could only place warning lights on the nearest cliffs, scarcely a reliable method. Lighthouse-owners could collect dues from the passing shipping; it was a lucrative business which first attracted the attention of a colourful character called Henry Winstanley, nicknamed ‘Whimsical’ because of his love of practical jokes. Henry was granted permission to build what was thought to be impossible, a lighthouse on Eddystone itself. However, he defied the sceptics; his lighthouse, completed in 1698 and built of wood and iron and reaching seventy feet high, was regarded as a wonder until it blew down in great storm on November 23 1703.

The second Eddystone Light appreared in 1709, designed by John Rudyard, a Cornishman who owned a silk shop on Ludgate Hill. This lighthouse was made of wood but, unlike Winstanley’s, was conical in shape and offered more resistance to the waves. It was built of stout timbers, like ocean-going vessels and withstood storms and buffeting for fort six years, when it suddenly burnt down on 2 December 1755. How the fire started was not clear. A team of keepers worked in shifts too renew the candles used to produce the light. It was thought that the heat from the candles had caused the wooden roof area to become completely dry and combustible. A boat was put to sea to rescue the three keepers. On reaching the shore one of the keepers took to his heels and was never seen again. Another, an old man of ninety-four, insisted that, as he had looked up at the flames in the roof, some molten rock had poured down his throat. Fourteen days later he died, a flat piece of lead weighing seven ounces was found in his stomach.

Mr. Weston [TH2], mainly to collect the dues, financed the building of a new lighthouse which he wished to be re-built quickly. His first enquiry was made to the president of the Royal Society, the Earl of Macclesfield who strongly recommended John Smeaton for his great knowledge of mechanics and his record of high quality work. The Earl’s recommendation was good enough for Weston who sent a message to Smeaton, who was working in Scotland at the time, insisting he build the lighthouse. The message took a month to reach Smeaton. Thinking it was a re-build job he wasn’t very keen. However, on finding he was to build a completely new lighthouse, he took up the challenge and hurried back to London.

.Smeaton set to work studying the problem of the third lighthouse. He made a lengthy study of the previous ones then decided that this one would be built of stone, a thing no one thought possible He studied the London curb-stones, which, because they were interlocked with each other, never moved and decided to dove-tail his stone accordingly. The base of the building would be weighed down with heavy rocks. No stone would be able to move on its own; each would be firmly held by every other one. Smeaton experimented with cement until he found one that set quickly and was not affected by salt. He then made a complete drawing of the building even before going to see the Eddystone Reef.

It was March 1756 Smeaton set out for Plymouth from London the journey took him six days. In Plymouth, he called to see Josiah Jessup, a foreman shipwright Jessup doubted that it was possible to build the lighthouse of stone but agreed that if it could be done, stone would withstand the greatest of storms. Jessup later gave Smeaton much help with his construction.

Due to strong winds around the channel, it was not until April that John attempted a visit to the Reef. The breakers were battering right over the rock and it was impossible to land due to the ferocity of the sea. Three days later he returned and this time managed to land, staying for two hours. On three other occasions he tried to get back on but found it impossible until the weather changed, when he was finally able to take measurements and make sketches. One evening, he worked by candlelight until 9pm. Eventually he had a working knowledge of every inch of the Reef.

Back in Plymouth at a place called Mill Bay, Smeaton started shaping and storing his stones. He directed the making of a modification to the landing area on the rock, and then set out for London to report to his employer Weston. When he arrived Smeaton constructed an exact model of the proposed lighthouse, making adjustments as he went along. When he showed it to Weston and the Lords of the Admiralty, all were completely satisfied. Smeaton again set off for Plymouth, on the way ordering the Portland stone that would construct the lighthouse. He engaged workmen, hired transport to and from Eddystone, and finally, bought all the provisions and tools; Josiah Jessup was appointed his first assistant.

On the August 31 1756, Smeaton began work. Landing again on the rock, he marked out the centre of the lighthouse. Some days, because of the tide, no work could be done. On other days they managed about six hours, cutting a base into the hard rock where the Portland stone would fit. All had to be done quickly by hand- hammer and chisel, before the start of winter. It was hard work but the dovetails had to be completed exactly. These would be vital to the strength of the base. By November they had completed the first phase and returned to Plymouth. It took them four days and many on the shore thought they were lost, as an almighty gale had blown them as far as the Bay of Biscay It took tremendous courage and seamanship to get back to Plymouth. The rest of the winter was spent at Mill Bay, dressing the rest of the Portland stones to the exact size. Each one weighed upwards of two tons. Over the winter four hundred and fifty tons of stone was cut to size and fitted into the next, as they would be on Eddystone. Finally, each stone was numbered, ready for transportation to the rock.

On the June 12 1757 the first stone was laid on the rock. It weighed two and a quarter ton. Next day the first course of four stones was laid, taking into account the slope of the reef .The subsequent courses allowed for this, the second course having thirteen stones while the third had twenty-five and so on. Eventually a perfect, circular course was completed containing sixty one stones. Work progressed well because of Smeaton’s planning, especially in the stone yard where every stone was first tried in sequence then, within that sequence, transported to the rock, and cemented after fitting within the dovetails. Two holes were bored in each stone and oak tree nails driven to the stone below, nothing being left to chance. After six courses, there was a level platform above the waves.

One day when Smeaton was testing the platform he fell over on to the rocks, painfully dislocating his thumb. He bravely jerked the thumb back into place, there being no medical help, then carried on with the work as if nothing had happened. Nine courses were laid before winter 1757. Before returning to Plymouth a converted boat was left to shine a warning to shipping which more often than not had to seek shelter because of storms. The weather was a good test for the part - finished lighthouse.

It wasn’t possible to get to the rock until May 12 1758. Smeaton and his men found the building had not moved even a fraction of an inch and the cement had set completely. By September, twenty four courses were finished, bringing the height to thirty-five feet. The base being complete they started on the walls of the storeroom and living area which were twenty six inches thick. That particular winter was a good one and before retiring they had completed the lower storeroom up to the roof on which they put a temporary cover. The following year, 1759, was very stormy and they did not get to the rock until July 5. By August, the masonry was finished: there were forty-six courses of stones, and the height was seventy feet. The iron work, balcony and lantern came next, ending with the fitting of a gilt ball to crown the whole edifice – which Smeaton fixed himself. He did not leave until everything was complete, including the windows which he fixed himself.

Ninety years later, in 1848, the Harbourmaster of Plymouth making an annual inspection of the lighthouse found it had leaned one quarter of an inch towards the northeast. Feeling apprehensive that even a quarter of an inch from the perpendicular was important, he referred to Smeaton’s journal of 1759 and found the following entry:

This day the Eddystone Lighthouse has thank God been completed, it is I believe perfect, except that it inclines a quarter of an inch from the perpendicular to the north east.

Ninety years after Smeaton had completed the lighthouse, it was still standing, as he built it, as a tribute to his skills.

In 1877 it was found that the Reef had been affected by erosion and seawater. Accordingly another tower had to be built 120 feet away which was completed in 1882. Smeaton’s tower was taken down stone by stone and re-erected on Plymouth Hoe. The solid stone base still stands on the rock, unaffected by weather and the strong waves of the Channel.

John Smeaton was awarded the Royal Society’s gold medal (the highest award possible) in 1759. He built forty improved water mills and four windmills in various parts of England, as well as four bridges, three of them in Perth, seven- arch bridges at Coldstream and Banff and one at Hexham in the north of England, the latter being his only failure [TH4]. Later in his life he wrote extensively about his work, the main piece [TH5]being The Eddystone Lighthouse. His drawings of the lighthouse are exquisite.

Like most people who put work before health, Smeaton was afflicted with stomach ulcers which may have contributed to his stroke [TH6]. What is certain about John Smeaton is that over the many years that Eddysone Lighthouse stood on the rock, it saved thousands of lives. Now standing on Plymouth Hoe it is a tribute to a great engineer [l7] .

Charles Algernon Parsons

1854 – 1931

Although born in London, Charles Algernon Parsons is fundamentally a ‘northern folk’. Parsons embarked and completed his life’s work in and around Tyneside, inventing the turbine engine and testing it successfully on the famous ship Turbinia. Not so long ago, any Geordie, asked whom he would want his son apprenticed to would undoubtedly have replied ‘Charles Parsons’, so esteemed was he in the North East of England.

Charles Parsons was born June 13 1854, at 13, Connaught Place, Hyde Park, London the youngest of six children to the Earl of Rosse, President of the Royal Society. It was from this London address in 1854 that he sent a letter to Sir John Burgoyne, who was Chief of the Engineering Department [TH1] for the British army, saying it was his dream to build an iron steamer, that could run at the enemy ships sinking them with one blow above the cut water. Three-in- one plate would be used, and the funnel would not appear above the deck. A 300 horse power engine would be required. It would take Charles Parsons thirty years to start to realise his father’s [l2] dream, first of all solving the propulsion method of such ships, and in the process finding other discoveries.

The family home was Birr castle, Co.Offaly, Ireland. There Charles and his five brothers enjoyed advantages that other people would envy. The months of May and June were always spent in London, July with their grandmother in Brighton, returning to Ireland in the autumn. A fire had destroyed the central part of Birr Castle.[TH3] However, after restoration the Castle still retained its thick walls, and a forge and workshop were constructed in the old moat. A furnace was also added to melt brass. Another addition was an engine house with machinery for polishing specula for telescopes. There were also lathes for wood and ironwork. Every kind of repair was possible. According to Sir Robert Ball [TH4] Birr Castle was

…a noble place surrounded by a moat, situated in a park through which flowed two rivers, that there unite, about the Lake which was made by Lord Rosse, The waters of the lake operated a water wheel to drain the low lying lands. The telescope was supported by two parallel walls, situated between Birr Castle and the Lake, the tube of the Newtonian, sixty feet long and more than six feet across carried at its lower end the mirror and at the top the eyepiece.

The workshop was where Charles and his father spent all their spare time when Charles was a boy. Many projects were conceived and problems solved here, but mostly the brothers had an out door life, rowing, fishing and shooting. Lessons began at 7.30am, followed by breakfast at 8.00am, then more lessons from 9.00am until noon. They were out of doors until lunch at 2 pm, with lessons again from 5.00pm until 6.30.pm. During these days in Ireland there was much unrest; murders, and robberies were not uncommon. Charles’s father often went to his observatory with pistols in his belt. All shrubs were cut down to deprive intruders of cover but the family was always left alone.

During his spare time, Charles could be seen in the workshop making all kinds of machines. In the Parsons brothers [l5] kept a twenty-ton yacht at Ryde, Cowes, and sometimes at Southampton. The yacht wintered at Leamington [TH6] or Dublin. They later bought Themia, an iron yacht of 150 tons. The brothers crossed the English Channel in her; they also visited Cherbourg, via Land’s End, prior to visiting Ireland. They then purchased Titania, which was 188 tons and also iron, but very fast. Titania had belonged to Robert Stephenson. They cruised in her from Dublin to Stornoway, Cape Wrath, and Wick, then to the east coast of England. They also cruised to Belgium and Holland and Amsterdam and the Zuider Zee where they visited the workshops of the diamond cutters. In 1867 they visited Cologne, Basle and Geneva. However, after the death of Lord Rosse in ? [TH7] family holidays came to an end. The brothers remained at the family home a year after their father’s death then took a house in Dublin, spending summer holidays of 1868 and 1869 at Birr Castle.

In [l8] ? Charles and his brother Clere began their studies at Trinity College, Dublin, where their father had been Chancellor. Charles did very well, winning prizes for mathematics and German He proceeded to St. Johns College, Cambridge where he gained a distinction in mathematics and rowed for his college On graduating from Cambridge in 1877, Charles Parsons went to Elswick, Newcastle upon Tyne on a three-year apprenticeship at the famous Armstrong Whitworth Works. This was the beginning of his long association with the North of England.

During Charles’s boyhood Lupu [TH9] s developed the torpedo. In 1870 the Whitehead torpedo had carried 18 pounds of dynamite and had been bought by the Admiralty for £15,000. In 1872 the famous Peter Brotherhood engine for driving torpedoes appeared. This impressed Parsons immensely; epicyclical engine and a steam turbine. From 1877 to 1884 Parsons’s research in this area kept him fully occupied. He built an experimental compound engine with four cylinders revolving at half speed on the crankshaft. He applied it to drive a Siemans dynamo at 7,000 revolutions a minute. At 10 horse-power, for a time it supplied the arc- light at Elswick jetty. The engine was put to work in a Millwright shop at an ordinance works. Later an Erith firm used the engine and it was so satisfactory for their needs they made more, with good results.

By now Charles Parsons had finished his apprenticeship at Armstrong’s works. The following letter was sent from the works and endorsed by William Armstrong himself:

Elswick Works,
Newcastle Upon Tyne,
June 3rd 1881

The Hon. C. A. Parsons,

Dear Sir,
In reply to your request for a recommendation from our firm to assist you in your search for a partnership in an Engineering establishment, pray make use of this letter in which we have pleasure of bearing testimony to your high theoretical knowledge, your constructive abilities, and your promising business qualifications. With this letter we hand you your indentures, which you will observe Sir William Armstrong has kindly certified. We are Sir

Yours faithfully
W. G. Armstrong & Co.

At this time Charles’s thoughts were constantly on turbines, rockets and torpedoes but it was also on marriage He met his future wife, Katherine Bethell, in 1882. The marriage took place on January 10 1883, in the Church of All saints in Bramham, Yorkshire. Their first home was in lodgings in Leeds. Parsons was so absorbed in the design of torpedoes that during his honeymoon he took his bride and also a mechanic to the local engine trials every morning. They arrived daily at 7am in bitter cold and frosty weather. It was during these cold mornings that Katherine caught rheumatic fever. By the spring she had fully recovered and they resumed their honeymoon, this time in warmer environments. In five months they visited America, New Mexico and California. In Chicago, as if Katherine hadn’t suffered enough, she was attacked by one of a herd of cattle and was pinned between its wide horns! Shortly after this they returned happily home.

In 1883 Charles joined Clark, Chapman & Co. of Gateshead as a junior partner and for a while studied electric lighting and steam turbines instead of torpedoes. He soon discovered that with a suitable dynamo, the turbine would power the electric lighting of ships.

Charles and Katherine started to turn their attention to a suitable home. Initially they decided on a house in Corbridge on Tyne. This meant that Charles had to leave for Gateshead at 7.30am returning at 8pm; this proved impossible and within a year they made their home at Elvaston Hall, Ryton on Tyne, County Durham. Rachel Mary Parsons was born on January 25 1885, followed by a son, Algernon George born on October 19 of the following year– both at Elvaston Hall. The young family stayed happily here for ten years. From the home workshop, with his daughter Rachel by his side, he produced all kinds of toys. There was the ‘Spider’, a small spirit fuelled three wheeled engine which travelled around the garden chased by the dogs. There was also a steam pram for carrying the children, and even a small flying machine, this was also fuelled by spirit and was actually photographed in full flight.

While his family life offered peace and tranquillity, his career was forging ahead. In 1884 his first steam turbine was running successfully at Gateshead. The Chilean battleship Blanco Encalada arrived at Elswick [TH10] for new boilers and armaments. This was the first warship to be fitted with a Parsons turbine and dynamos-set for electric lighting. By the time Charles Parsons was thirty years of age he was well on his way to a successful engineering career. In the same year, Clark Chapman and Co. fitted the ill-fated HMS Victoria with one of Parsons’s 12 kilowatt combined turbo generators. In May 1887 Parsons was making 4 Kilowatt ‘sets’, for the Suez Canal and he was also completing similar contracts for the Italian, Spanish and Chilean navies. His turbines were rapidly being improved and the relationship of the velocity of the steam to the velocity of the blades received careful attention to improve the efficiency. During 1884-1885 two small portable turbine sets were completed at Gateshead.

In January 1886 there was a severe frost and the swan pond near Sheriff Hill was frozen hard. The Chief Constable of Gateshead, Mr. Elliott, suggested that if the pond could be illuminated, skaters could be attracted and charged a small fee for admission, thus raising some cash for the local hospital. Clark and Parsons gladly loaned a portable turbine in order to generate the lighting. R.N. Redmane in the Newcastle Evening Chronicle of July 22 1931 described the occasion:

Elliott carted the Turbine up to the ground, where it was set up. Lamps were hung round the pond, and the Turbine was got to work. Mr. Joseph Swan supplied the lamps. It was a great success from Elliott’s point of view, because the place was so crowded, that few people could really skate. But every one paid to get in, to say that they had actually skated by electric light. As far as I can remember the frost lasted three days and the Royal Infirmary benefited by £100

In 1887 Parsons became known as the ‘Designer of Plant for the Generation of Electricity’[l11] . In that particular year, ten of his turbo generators, from 15 Kilowatts to 32 Kilowatts each, supplied most of the lighting for the Newcastle Exhibition by means of incandescent lamps, the turbo generator being made at Clark, Chapman & Co. at Gateshead. This was reported to be the most efficient exhibition of incandescent lighting at the time.

These were exciting days for Charles Parsons. He established the suitability of his turbo-alternator for town electricity supply, as well as building machines for Newcastle District Electric Lighting Company. It was mainly due to this wonderful period that Charles Parsons won the freedom of the City of Newcastle upon Tyne in 1914.

In 1889 the Partnership of Clarke, Chapman & Co. was dissolved. Prior to this, in 1889, Parson founded the firm C.A. Parsons and Co. at Heaton, Newcastle upon Tyne. The works primarily manufactured steam turbines for use on land, as well as high-speed electrical machinery suitable for coupling straight to turbines. The works covered two acres. There was also a blacksmith’s shop, testing rooms and offices. At the time the total staff was 48. This was a sharp contrast to the works in 1931 when C.A. Parsons & Co. Ltd. of Heaton covered 20 acres and employed 2,000 people.

During 1895, Westing House Machinery Company acquired the American rights for installations on land in America. Messrs. Brown & Boveri, to enable the Parsons turbine to be built in America, mainly for Europe, obtained licences in 1901.[l12]

By the 1920s, the Parsons name was certainly well known. However, not always for positive reasons: at one of the land stations in Shanghai, in November 1923, there was a terrible accident with a 20,000 kilowatt turbo alternator. At the time it was running unloaded at moderate speed. The turbine rotor shaft forging burst and some lives were lost. There had been a concealed defect in the interior of the forging. The shaft had been made in 1921 from a cold ingot of medium carbon steel of unknown history. An independent company, who accepted responsibility for the defect, had manufactured it. News of the disaster came when Parsons was attending a dinner in London of the British Electrical & Allied Manufacturers Association. Parsons was dining with fellow directors and had to sit right through dinner knowing about the accident. They convened a Board meeting at midnight that very evening and decided to cable Shanghai accepting responsibility as follows:

Deepest regrets at serious accident and loss of life. Sending immediately two chief experts to investigate. Keep all parts for evidence. Will replace turbine and recondition the whole of your plant, entirely at our cost.

Another setback was an explosion aboard King George V, on September 29 1927, when two ship’s firemen lost their lives. This greatly distressed Parsons. The cause, after some time, was traced to scale in the water. Later it was decided only to use distilled water in these high-pressure water boilers. The ship, after rectification, resumed service with satisfactory results.

After Charles Parsons parted company with Clarke Chapman & Co. along with the £20,000 he had initially invested in the company. However, leaving with the patents for his turbines was a little more difficult. For some years there was arbitration and litigation, all stemming from an agreement on individual patents taken out when a board of directors resigned his directorship. These became the property of the company. When Charles tried to regain these, he found that he would have to pay a very large sum, namely, the present day value of the patent. It did not seem quite right that he would have to pay Chapman and Clarke an inflated amount of cash just to work his own patents so Parsons decided to fight the action, which had been endorsed by the arbitrators. Another point raised at the time was that the patents would be virtually useless without Parsons himself. Litigation continued for years until it was decided that Clarke, Chapman & Company carry on with Parsons’ patents without Parsons; in effect develop them on their own. Parsons carried on with his turbines using a different design from the original. As for Clarke and Chapman, they never made any money out of the patents! Later, Parsons was able to regain the patents for a very moderate amount.

In 1897 [l13] a new Company was formed, the Parsons Maritime Steam Turbine Company at Wallsend, Newcastle. It had a registered capital of £500,000 divided into 5,000 shares, each of £100 with a first issue of £240,000. The original company transferred to this company all its powers under the Parsons patents. It took over the right to any future extension or improvements. The prospectus added: ‘…it is proposed forthwith to acquire the advantages of a site on the Tyne for manufacturing turbines and the equipment of Torpedo Boats, Destroyers, and vessels generally. The technical management of the undertaking will remain with Mr. Parsons as Managing Director.’

Charles Parsons began to research the possibility of turbines being used in ocean going shipping, which included warships. He summarised the advantages of marine propulsion:

1. Increased speed.

2. Increased carrying power of vessel.

3. Increased economies in steam consumption.

4. Increased facilities for navigation of shallow waters.

5 Reduced initial costs.

6. Reduced weight of machinery.

7. Reduced cost of attendance on machinery.

8. Diminished cost of upkeep of machinery.

9. Largely reduced vibration.

10. Reduce size and weight of screw propellers and shafting.

Parsons had to prove these claims and decided to construct an experimental vessel 100 feet in length, to be propelled by a turbine of 1,000hp: the Turbinia[l14]

The Turbinia had thirty one trials at full speed. Single, two bladed, single four bladed multiple treble propellers, with every modification fitted, the best results were obtained with treble propellers, twenty two inches in diameter which at 1,780 revolutions gave Turbinia 19 ¾ knots. It was an advance but it could do better. More experiments were needed. Gerald Stoney, who took part in early trials with the Turbinia, said its reverse gear was imperfect. On one occasion they tried to turn about in the Tyne, they reached the side of the river but owing to the current could not go further round, and collided with a cargo steamer, The North Tyne. The Turbinia’s, sharp bow made an eighteen inch hole in the side of the ship Parsons and the crew did well with boat hooks, but the collision could not be avoided. The North Tyne put into dock for a new plate.

On another occasion when Lady Parsons and Miss Rachel were on board, the skipper sighted one of Armstrong’s twenty three knot vessels off the Tyne. They closed the Turbinia’s hatches and accelerating to twenty eight knots, overtook the vessel, leaving her far astern. She responded by a friendly blast from her whistle. One of the officers from Armstrong’s boat said that all they saw when the Turbinia, went past was a big wave, with a black bow emerging and a flame of fire shooting out from the middle. The bow wave of the Turbinia, swept the deck and all on board were drenched, including Miss Rachel, who stepped down into the forward stokehold to dry off with her brother.

There was a great deal of French interest in the Turbinia, and in 1900 the boat was an important part of the Paris exhibition [l15] . Arrangements were made to have speed runs on a wide part of the river Seine. Turbinia was taken there the day before the trial. The French Minister of Marine was there and small steamers from Rouen formed a lane, through which Turbinia sped, and the crowds cheered loudly. Later she proceeded to Le Havre. In the distance the Newhaven-Dieppe steamer was travelling towards England. Turbinia easily caught up with her and made circles round her, finally breaking off to make for Grimsby then the Tyne. The Paris trip took three weeks. The Turbinia’s success prompted Parsons to look towards expansion. Two further vessels Cobra and Viper were constructed both of which would unfortunately end in disaster. On August 3 1901, HMS Viper, fitted with Parsons turbines, floundered on Renouquet Island, near Alderney, and was a total wreck. On September 18 1901, HMS Cobra, fitted out exactly the same as her sister ship, broke in two off the Outer Dowsing Shoal, on the Lincolnshire coast. She was being navigated from the Tyne to Portsmouth.

There were many enquiries regarding the two ships and in December 1905 Parsons gave a lecture at Armstrong College, Newcastle. Although the Viper & Cobra, were lost through no fault of the turbines, he said it was apparent that the whole system was in danger of collapsing. This directly led to the building of the first turbine propelled merchant vessel, the King Edward, in the spring of 1900.[TH16]

After the Turbinia and its sister ships it was well known what Tyneside could do to provide propulsion for war vessels. Nearly every navy, in the world adopted Parsons’s turbines. The speed required by navies averaged twenty five knots. The Royal Navy required even faster ships than this which was not achievable without Parsons’s turbines. In 1906 the first turbine driven capital ship HMS Dreadnought was built. That year Cunard got Lusitania and Mauritania, fitted with 70,000 hp. turbines. The Royal Navy ordered battle ships like Dreadnought, Invincible, Inflexible and Indomitable in 1908, 1909 all with speeds of twenty six knots. In World War Two, HMS Hood built by John Brown and Co. and propelled by turbines of 150,000hp, reached speeds of thirty two knots.

However, it was inevitable that some of Parsons’s turbine fitted ships would come under attack and they did. The best known of these vessels are probably the Cunard liner Lusitania, torpedoed without warning by a German submarine on May 7 1915 with the loss of 1,198 lives, and HMS Hood, sunk on May 24 1941by the German pocket battleship Bismarck.

Although turbines were his passion, Parsons also found time to develop other interests. In 1906, two trumpet shaped objects appeared at the Queens Hall, London. These were for increasing the volume and richness of tone, mainly of stringed instruments, and they were on trial at the hall. Charles Parsons had earlier taken out patents in various sound recorders which improved over the years from the initial gramophone recorders. In one of the earlier types of Auxetophone, the gramophone needle was fixed into a socket formed integrally with the valve cover. The needle ran in the groove on the face of the ‘record’ disc. Parsons used the Edison counter-weight lever and sapphire stylus for picking up and transmitting sound waves. Auxetophone gramaphone concerts were given in towns throughout the country as well as in Australia and New Zealand. By 1909 the fame of the Auxetophone had increased. Musicians, and especially Sir Henry Wood, received it very well.

Parsons was also bent upon digging miles below the earth’s surface, where unknown treasures may be waiting to be discovered. One reason for his idea of extreme mining was that it could yield oil and coal that could not have been envisaged from moderate depth mines. Parsons consulted Mr. John Bell Simpson, the eminent authority of the times on mining in the north of England. The shaft was sunk in stages each about half a mile in depth. It was estimated that at the time it would cost £5,000,000 to bore to a depth of twelve miles. Simpson observed that

…beneath our feet are unexplored coalfields.

He went on to say that,

…it would be most interesting Geological investigation of National and Commercial importance; if workable seams at moderate depths could be proved it would add another 200 years to the Great Northern coalfields.

[TH17]

Parsons visited the Geothermal Power Plant of Larderrello,in Italy which was operated by the steam springs of Tuscany on the extreme northern border of the Maremma marshlands. Prince Ginori-Conti in July 1924, during the world power conference at Wembley, explained that these natural jets known as ‘Saffoni’ emit only steam, thereby differing from ordinary geysers that release steam and water. An engine successfully ran for fifteen years from this steam. Later three generating units were added using turbines. At a meeting of the Royal Society, at the time, Sir Charles proposed that the earth’s natural heat should be utilised by drilling a well of sufficient depth to reach high temperatures. The Prince said that Parsons idea had been implemented in their system in his country and was very effective.

Parsons was also greatly interested in astronomy and products related to the science, such as lenses for searchlights and other astronomical equipment. In 1882 Dr. Schott [TH18] joined forces with Abbe [TH19] in Jena in Prussia. They also became associated with Carl Zeiss (1816-1888) who, since 1846, had made scientific instruments in a factory at Jena. They came together to form a company. [l20] Schott and Abbe began experimenting on the improvements of lenses to obtain sharper definition, equal central and marginal magnification and absence of colour fringes, together with a maximum intensity of transmitted light. Their activities at Jena during the World War were amazing. They employed more than 10,000 people. Their findings caused Parsons much anxiety as he saw England dropping behind more experienced countries in the manufacture of optical glass. It had been estimated that prior to 1914 Jena produced about 60% of the Worlds optical glass, Paris 30% and Birmingham the remainder. In 1917-1918, Wood Brothers Glass Company of Barnsley had been asked to supply optical glass for the War Office and the Admiralty and the Ministry for Munitions

After 1920 the business was imperilled and it looked certain for collapse. Parson intervened acquired the shares, paid off all of the creditors, and allowed funds for cash flow, so that the company could continue. Charles knew he would have no financial gain whatsoever, but he was determined to save the company, as he knew that the industry was necessary for the scientific and industrial welfare of his country. By June 30 1929, the capital contributed by him for the project was £57,000. Later England perfected the art of optical glass manufacture and due to his perseverance, when all seemed lost, this industry was able to hold its own. Because of his father’s interest in astronomy and his own interest in lenses, Parsons was able to foresee this problem, and with his financial strength was able to avert a very serious catastrophe for England.

Parsons never had one day of poverty in his life. He was always a very active man; when he could he cycled to work. He rarely consulted a doctor but for others he would insist on the best specialists possible and any aids to make life tolerable. Most of his time was spent at his works office than anywhere else. He was slightly deaf and at times seemed deep in thought, but any visitors received a warm, even overwhelming, welcome.

Parsons always considered the future not the past. On November 6 1902, he received from Sir Michael Foster, the secretary of the Royal Society, the Rumford medal for his invention of the turbine and its extension into navigation. On March 5 1910, when he was living at Holeyn Hall, Wylam on Tyne, he was appointed Sheriff of the County of Northumberland. On June 10 1911, he was appointed a Knight Commander of the Bath, just prior to the Coronation and on September 13 1915, he was made chairman of the Tyne & Wear Board of Management under the Ministry of Munitions.

Parsons was a keen fisherman. He enjoyed trout fishing either in lochs or rivers; he always remembered that his best catch was at Lord Armstrong’s home. They were catching one after the other, forgetting that it was the first day of September [l21] when a water bailiff approached them telling them he was confiscating the fish and their rods as they were fishing illegally. Lord Armstrong intervened and the bailiff let them go. Meanwhile, Lady Armstrong was waiting to cook the trout that never arrived.

Like everyone else Charles Parsons had downturns in life. When he heard about the Cobra disaster he locked himself in his office and stayed there all day long. 1918 brought him sorrow beyond belief when he was informed about the death of his son, Algernon, killed in action on April 26 1918, in France. Algernon had been at the Front with the British Expeditionary Force in France from November 13 1914 until his death. His army career is too vast and illustrious to list in a small work such as this. His body is buried at Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery in Belgium, Plot 28, Row C, Grave 4. Charles’ss daughter, Rachel, was a godsend to Charles over this period. She had been educated at Roedean and at Newnham College Cambridge,where she studied mechanical science, entering Heaton Works when her brother went to do his duty in France. She competently filled the role of directorship of the works. From 1922-1925 she served as a member of London County Council and she had the distinction of being one of the three woman members of the Institute of Naval Architects.

Parsons was a sincere man, always having an air of refinement about him; he greeted friends warmly and with a smile although his handshake was curiously limp. A good conversationalist, he was also a good listener. Parsons loved the sea, being ever in the engine room or on the bridge. On cruises, he visited Canada, South America and the West Indies.

In January 1931 he and Lady Parsons traveled to the West Indies on board the Duchess of Richmond and then on to Venezuela going by car to Caracas where he fell ill. It was thought that the climate did not agree with him. He returned to the ship and spent the following day in his bunk thinking that he had a customary chill. There was apparently some problem with his circulation, but it was thought that it would improve with rest. Sadly, in Kingston Harbour on February 11 1931, as the sun was setting, Charles Parsons slipped silently away.

George Hudson

1800 -1871

Insert pictureo

N December 30 1833, a group of tradesmen met in Tomlinson’s hotel in York. Amongst them were solicitors, owners of small businesses, and small shopkeepers. The Sheriff of York, a coal merchant named Meek, chaired the meeting. The Liverpool to Manchester Railway had recently been shown to be a complete success and now South Yorkshire coal owners had come together to discuss building a railway line from Leeds to Selby, with the possibility of proceeding as far as Hull. It was hoped that in a short time south Yorkshire coal could be transported cheaply and swiftly to the south of England. This meeting was the beginning of George Hudson’s amazing quest to develop the railways in the north of England.

Hudson was a linen draper of College Street, York. His beginnings were rather obscure, but by his own exertions he became a millionaire. He provided the whole of the north of England with railways which were carefully planned, built quickly and supplied work for thousands of men. Both he and his friends became very rich, though later the methods he used to raise money for the projects would be questioned. However, all the railways he built where successful and Hudson became known as the ‘Railway King’.

George Hudson was the son of a prosperous yeoman farmer from the tiny village of Derwant which lies between York and Malton. George was his father’s fifth son, born in 1800. His father, who had intended him to be a farmer, died when George was nine leaving him to make his way in the world as best he could.

George left school at fifteen [TH1] , and was bound apprentice in William Bell’s linen shop in College Street, York. In 1821 he married a solicitor’s daughter, Elizabeth Nicholson, who occasionally worked in the shop where the couple also lived. When William Bell retired he re-named the business Nicholson and Hudson. Later in his life, Hudson said that the days at the shop were the happiest of his life, running a business with an annual turnover of £3,000 - a quarter of which was profit.

In 1827, however, something happened which would change Hudson’s life, bringing him extreme wealth but eventually financial ruin. Hudson’s rich great-uncle, Matthew Bottrill, died, leaving most of his fortune of £30,000 to his nephew George. Bottrill had made the will on his deathbed where Hudson had been assiduous in attendance on the old man in his final hours. The will was not contested and Hudson became one of the richest men in York, using his legacy to invest in North Midland railway. He later said that acquiring this money was the worst thing that could have happened to him because it led him to the railways and eventual ruin.

The shop gradually disappeared into the background and Hudson rose in society as a member of the Conservative party. Cholera was rife in and around York at this time and Hudson served on the local Health Board, where he made a name for himself. During the autumn of 1832 he stood as Conservative candidate in the council elections, progressing from organiser to treasurer of the party. At the same time, Hudson became interested in banking and formed the York Union Banking Company, which began trading in 1833 with a capital of half a million pounds. Deposits were forthcoming from Sir John Lowther [TH2] and other wealthy men and the company began trading with Glyns, a London bank the chairman of which was also chairman and chief promoter of the London to Birmingham Railway. Hudson’s bank would soon play a major role in the financing of railway companies.

At the meeting at Tomlinson’s Hotel at the end of 1833, Hudson was appointed treasurer of the Railway Committee [TH3] . The committee would undertake the development of a railway to link York with towns in West Riding. Hudson bought up most of the shares offered for the York to Leeds Railway and secured a famous engineer, Rennie, [TH4] to survey the line. His report was ready in early 1834. Rennie actually proposed the use of horses, on the grounds of economy! Hudson visited Whitby later that year where he met George Stephenson. By this time Stephenson had been successful in designing two railways [TH5] which were both doing well. Stephenson and Hudson struck up a formidable friendship which lasted throughout both men’s lives.

Around this time, there was a lull in the progress of the railways in the north so Hudson took the opportunity to advance his political career. In 1834 the first reformed parliament was dissolved and there was a general election. With help from financial deposits from Sir John Lowther and the York Union Bank and also from James Richardson, the Conservative agent, Hudson supported Sir John for one of the York seats [TH6] in the election; £2,000 being spent on the poll and a further £1,000 to reward ‘those that voted Tory’. The seat was secured despite objections to the bribery used by the Conservatives in securing it In August 1835 Hudson and over sixty prominent citizens were summoned to London to testify before a Commons Committee on Election Petitions. Hudson, as party treasurer, was cross-examined for two whole days and forced to make a number of damaging admissions: the Conservatives had been guilty of gross bribery, but Hudson, although guilty of impropriety with funds, was welcomed home a hero and a true blue.

During the autumn of 1835 there was a public meeting in Doncaster with a deputation headed by its richest citizen, Edmund Becket Denison, to beg Hudson to build a railway to Doncaster. Hudson decided to be guided by Stephenson, who advised the use of engines rather than the horses Rennie had recommended. Stephenson’s plan was to put in two railways right through the midlands, one from Derby via the hilly country to Leeds, to be called The North Midland Railway, and one from Rugby to Derby called The Midlands County Railway. He had secured the agreement of the Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire coal owners, as well as a group of capitalists from Liverpool, so success was virtually guaranteed. Hudson had already made his own promises to link Leeds [TH7] to London and begged Stephenson to make the terminus of the North Midland line at York rather than Leeds: ‘Mak all t’railways cum t’ York’, he pleaded. But Stephenson, thinking of fixed gradients on his lines, refused to change his original plans. Hudson thought up a clever variation of his original plan: the York line should connect with Stephenson’s line at Normanton. This was common sense and it meant that they could also enlist Stephenson as engineer and use his prestige to raise capital.

The plan quickly took shape. The new line was called The North Midland Railway. Hudson’s strategy proved sound. A group of Quakers who had originally been involved in the Stockton and Darlington Railway had proposed a line from Newcastle to York, be called the Great North of England Railway and the two groups agreed to collaborate. Hudson wholeheartedly took the lead and the committee was transformed into the North Midland Railway Company with Hudson as treasurer, James Richardson as solicitor and one of Stephenson’s assistants as engineer. A survey of the line was carried out and the bill drafted for introduction to parliament. £300,000 capital had to be raised. There were few investors from York but a group of London capitalists added their weight and by 1836 the £50 shares began to sell. The York MPs, including Lowther, ensured an easy passage for the bill. By August 1836 the new committee was able to hold its first formal meeting, register the shares and elect a board of directors. Sir John Simpson, the Lord Mayor of London topped the poll. Hudson, beaten by a single vote was second. James Richardson, Alderman Meek Robert Davies the Town Clerk and Richard Nicholson, Hudson’s brother-in-law were all elected. Later Hudson was chosen as chairman and his friend George Baker became secretary.

It was early in September when Stephenson staked out the first few miles of the new line, saying that it would be completed in eighteen months; he was however, proved to be over optimistic. In order to speed the bill through the House of Lords, Hudson had made an offer [l8] to Lord Howden, who owned some of the land en-route. Later Hudson attempted to get out of the deal but after litigation, Howden was paid £5,000 by the committee. Hudson had overreached himself.

In April 1837 Hudson set the contractors to work on the line, which was due to run from York, and across the Leeds-Selby line at South Milford at Altofts. The contractors imported Irish navvies. The company’s stock rose together with Hudson’s prestige in York. Stephenson had promised that the line would be the cheapest yet constructed and actually invested £20,000 of his own money in shares. He encouraged his friends to do the same. The Quakers in York were a little suspicious of Hudson, but still invested their money, mainly because of their confidence in Stephenson. York City Council gave permission for a tunnel under the city with space for a station.

In April 1839 the first engine arrived from Stephenson’s factory in Newcastle and was christened the Lowther. It was decided to have the opening ceremony on May 29, when all York celebrated the occasion. The Minster bells rang and everywhere in York there were signs of merrymaking. A large crowd of distinguished guests consumed early morning breakfast, then, after a short speech by Hudson, four hundred passengers packed themselves into nineteen carriages serviced by two engines and made the journey to South Milford. Resplendent in his glory was Hudson, with Stephenson at his right side. A long round of speeches and toasts followed. Robert Stephenson’s health was toasted the crowd streamed back to the state-room of the Mansion House, where the mayor led the dancing which lasted until four in the morning.

The opening of the York railway was indeed a huge achievement. Hudson’s prestige was at an all-time high but in both politics and business he had made many enemies, The Quaker businessmen in particular did not trust him. But the Great North of England Railway Company did not prosper. The company engineer had not constructed adequate bridges and Robert Stephenson had to come to the rescue. In fact Stephenson became their engineer, but on his own terms, one condition being that the company drop all thought of proceeding further with the northern half of the project between Darlington and Newcastle.

On February 26 1841 there was a half yearly meeting of the North Midland Railway Company. Hudson was nominated for election to the board of directors but declined the offer. He was too interested in the Great North of England Railway and the Newcastle to Darlington route. People wondered at the time why the North Midland, with Stephenson as engineer fared so badly against Hudson’s line. In hindsight the answer is clear to see: the company had paid far too much for their land whereas Hudson had not.

In September 1843 Hudson succeeded in a triple amalgamation of the Midlands railways. People were now realising how astute a businessman Hudson was. The people of York were fully aware of this and had nicknamed him ‘Gumsher Hudson’[TH9] , while in London he was called ‘The Yorkshire Balloon’ [TH10] ‘Jupiter’ and even ‘The Railway Napoleon’. And a journalist for The Railway Times wrote,[TH11] ‘I consider Hudson to be a shrewd and honest man’ and compared his power to that of the Prime Minister, William Gladstone.

After the hard- won victories at the Midland meetings in August and September a lesser man would have taken a holiday – but not George Hudson. He and Robert Stephenson bought the Durham Junction Line in late autumn 1843, for less than its original cost of construction. The next project was extending the line to Newcastle and then to Berwick. Finance was forthcoming from the shareholders of the Darlington-Newcastle line. But an obstacle stood in their way: the river Tyne.

Until 1843 the line ran only as far as Gateshead, on the south bank of the Tyne. George Stephenson devised a scheme for a great bridge at a high level across the river from Gateshead to Newcastle. The project was priced at £100,000. The High Level Bridge over the Tyne and the Berwick Railway progressed slowly. Rivalry was developing between the York and North Midland and the Hull and Selby Railways. North of York there was towns [TH12] with undeveloped docks; Hudson imagined the cargoes of coal and iron ore entering these docks. He also wished to build a line of watering places between Hull and Hartlepool by connecting up Filey and Bridlington with Scarborough, via a coastal railway line. This brought Hudson into conflict with the Selby and Hull railway companies who naturally thought it was their territory. The directors could not sustain a fight with Hudson unaided, and tended to stick close to the Manchester -Leeds Railway Company, who were also hostile to the York and North Midland Company; sooner or later there would be a mighty conflict up and down eastern England.

Rumours of Hudson buying the Great North of England Railway were rife in the autumn of 1844, but it wasn’t until May 1845 that Hudson made his move. The company was invited to lease their line to Hudson’s group of companies for five years at a guaranteed 10% on all their shares. Thereafter, the Newcastle and Darlington Junction Company would buy the whole line out at the rate of £250 for every £100 share. The Great North of England shareholders would be paid off in 4% stock, continuing to receive 10% in perpetuity on their existing capital. They stood to make an enormous profit.

Total capital so far [l13] extended on the line [l14] was £1,300,000 and it would take a further £344,000,000 of new capital to purchase it [l15] . The total income of the line to date was only £75,000 a year, yet the guaranteed rent he promised was £109,000 a year until 1847, and even more after that. In 1846, Hudson admitted in evidence before a Parliamentary Committee that he had paid more than market price for the line. He justified this by having more efficient management between York and Berwick; he then reduced prices on the line gaining public goodwill. Hudson added that he had no personal interest in the purchase, not holding a single share in the Great North of England at the time of its purchase. He maintained that his interest really lay in raising shares in order to pay for the purchases.

About this time [l16] Hudson raised a testimonial subscription for George Stephenson in the form of a plate and the erection of a statue on the projected High Level Bridge over the Tyne. Since Hudson was closely connected with these projects, two testimonials were planned. One story, advocated by Bridges Adams [TH17] tells how Hudson drafted the appeal for his own testimonial, drawing up a list of subscribers with large sums next to their names, including contractors and engineers. He then instructed his secretary to send the list to the press in the hope that those people now publicly named, would not refuse to support his testimonial. He then requested all of the donations to be paid directly to his bankers. George Stephenson denounced this procedure, saying that he intended writing a letter of refusal to the press, but other directors convinced him that this might affect the railway shares so he backed down.

Hudson travelled south to [TH18] Westminster to monitor progress with the Railway Bill. On July 11th Lord Brougham complained that Hudson was working with a twelve Counsel power before the committee on the London to York Line with obstructive purposes, and that he had interfered with the committee. The merits of the London- York bill had now being argued ad nauseam and the committee’s duties were finishing. Speculation in company shares was rife. On July 23, with the casting votes of the chairman the Railways Bill was approved. When the Bill had passed the standing - order stage in the House of Lords without challenge, it was found that a lot of the names and addresses of share-holders were fictitious. A petition to enquire into allegations of forgery was mounted, but the bill still passed its third reading.

Later the charge was found to have been well grounded. At the very last stage of the Bill, the Lords Committee recommended that it should proceed no further until further investigations could be made. The seventy-day committee, the counsel, witnesses and promoters in parliament, together with outside speculators, found that the veto had fallen. The Midlands Railway was safe for another year when it could consolidate the east of England with its own railway system.

[l19]

In 1845 a series of celebrations took place throughout the east of England [l20] . On August 16, a reception at York Station was held. The [TH21] Lord Mayor, Sheriff, with the Dean of York attending. The Minster bells were rung, cannons fired and deafening cheers and music welcomed the Railway King. After celebrations at Whitby, came Sunderland where there was a Conservative Banquet on October 21. For years businessmen had striven to increase the importance of Sunderland as a port, but had not succeeded – now Hudson was doing it in no time at all.

However, the London - York Railway Bill still haunted Hudson. The York and North Midland Railway Company was charged with £30,000 and The Midland Railway Company £50,000 as their share of the costs [l22] . The Bill’s passage through the Commons was assured if there were no changes. Hudson proposed to create a north -south line of his own. To do this he would have to move south to London. He therefore took on the chairmanship of the Eastern Counties Railway. This railway was 150 miles long, one of the longest in the country and carried more goods than passengers but it was badly managed although it had a London terminus. Three million pounds had been spent on the line with only a return dividend of 1% in July 1845.

Prior to moving to London, Hudson bought the Durham and Sunderland Railway for £270,000, double the market value as well as building a new dock for £200,000 at Jarrow Slake on the Tyne. Hudson also leased to the Newcastle and Darlington Company and the Hartlepool Dock and Railway Company, which linked the town with the main line [l23] . The Times declared Hudson had secured almost entire command of the northern railways in the county of Durham.

It was said that one of the major blunders of Hudson’s career was his chairmanship of the Eastern Counties Railway for which it was thought impossible to make a profit. Strategically the Eastern Counties Railway was an unusual partner for the Midland and York and the North Midland Railways. Because of the alliance, Hudson’s companies were vulnerable and hard to knit together. By the end of 1843, railway mania increased and engineers such as Brunel, Locke, Rennie, and Vignobles were in great demand. George Stephenson was now retired and living at Tapton House but his son, Robert, was connected with thirty-four separate lines and Hudson often called at Stephenson’s offices at 24 Great George Street, Westminster. The demand for labour of all kinds increased. The price of iron doubled. Solicitors, stockbrokers and estate agents were all in demand; 16,00 people ranging from bankers to clergymen had bought railway shares of £2,000 [TH24] . Even such unlikely figures as Emily and Ann Bronte invested small amounts. Their more famous sister Charlotte failed to persuade them to sell when the,market was high and they lost their money in the slump [TH25] . George Stephenson said, from his retirement at Tapton, that Hudson had became too great for him. Stephenson had made Hudson a rich man but he would soon care for nobody unless they could make him money.

The amalgamation of the lines north of York was accomplished in two stages; the first of these was the ratification by parliament [TH26] of the purchase of the Great North of England Railway by the Newcastle and Darlington Junction Company, which was renamed the York and Newcastle Railway in September 1846; 159,000 new shares at £25 each were issued, making the new company £6,625,000. Hudson made a pledge to buy out every holder of shares worth £100 in the Great North of England, for £250 before 1851, so confident was he of success.

On July 5 1847, the young Queen Victoria and Prince Albert her consort travelled on the Eastern Counties Railway to Cambridge where they attended the installation of the Chancellor of the University. Hudson seized the opportunity to put on a flamboyant display. A special train was fitted out for the occasion. The Queen appeared in a transparent cottage bonnet and peach-blossom satin dress. She bade Mr. Hudson good-morning whereupon he guided her into a pavilion filled with elegantly dressed women. From there he escorted her to the royal carriage and presented her with a beautifully executed map of the line and illuminated copies of the timetable of the royal train. The carriage was coloured white and gold outside. The linings and furniture were of French grey satin. The roof was fluted with the same material and the carriage hung with the fairest and freshest favours of flora. [TH27] On arrival at Cambridge, Hudson leapt out and quickly opened the royal carriage door. The Queen took his arm and he escorted her into the pavilion, preceded by the Earl Marshall, the Duke of Norfolk. Later, Prince Albert, conveyed Her Majesty’s satisfaction in her comfort and well-being to Hudson

Hudson’s calculations about the success of the enterprise [l28] were made on the expectation that the year 1847 would turn out to be the worst year of the trade depression. He thought that after a slump, trade would revive and prosperity would follow. However, revolution and riot were rife throughout Europe and like most of the population, he had not anticipated the political upheavals of 1848. Anxiety affected his health and in April of that year Hudson was confined to bed with a digestive problem, which later affected his heart and caused attacks of angina

May 1848, Robert Davies retired after completing twenty years as Town Clerk of York. Hudson missed his old friend whom he could trust to guide the machinery of local government. Between August and September of 1848, Hudson had to repay £400,000 that he had borrowed from banks on behalf of his various companies. He managed this, but it left his reserves seriously deflated and future dividends were in jeopardy. Rumours leaked about the massive repayment, causing panic throughout Hudson’s shareholders. By October 27 the York and North Midland £50 share had fallen from £62 to £46, the York Newcastle and Berwick £25 share from £30 to £23, the Midland £100 stock from £93 to £73, the Eastern Counties £20 shares to just over £12. Railway stock throughout the country was also affected. Hudson again suffered with digestive problems and his financial statements were delayed until November 14. For the moment the shares were checked but there was an obvious storm brewing and investors settled down to await the next set of accounts.

The Stockton and Darlington Railway Company had rather declined from its original glory and the directors wished Hudson to place it in his [l29] care which he agreed to do in November 1848. A notice appeared in the press [TH30] that the line was to be leased to the York, Newcastle and Berwick Company at a guarantee of 9% on capital. The North British Railway had also changed their minds and approached Hudson, but now conditions were different, and Hudson could not raise the capital necessary [l31] . The ‘Railway King’ had spent enormous amounts on his four northern railway companies. Approximately £30,000,000 went to guaranteed dividends on leases and shareholders. Now no more capital was forthcoming from any source. Each of the four half-yearly meetings in 1849 spelt trouble for Hudson. He had lent £150,000 of the shareholders money to the Sunderland Dock Company without parliamentary sanction. He also had trouble with the strangulation of Hull shipping by the Danish blockade [TH32] . In January there was a rumour of his impending resignation. Matters went from bad to worse when on August 12 1848, George Stephenson died aged 68. Stephenson had been associated with Hudson since the railway mania had started in 1835, but he had lived more or less in retirement since 1845. The passing of Stephenson proved an ill omen. Hudson was put further and further under pressure, as one after the other of his financial discrepancies surfaced. His accounts were a shambles, with dates and times of transactions missing; James Richardson and Robert Davies [TH33] had signed any cheque laid before them.

Eventually the Prance report [TH34] was published which blasted any good name that Hudson had left. Many wished the ‘Railway Kin’g to be prosecuted for the violation of the Companies Act. The press was very hostile. ‘Mr. Hudson will not escape us’ and ‘Mr. Hudson has duped thousands’ were some of the comments. Hudson was dragged in front of a tribunal of the Eastern [l35] Counties Railway, where Mr. Cash [TH36] , the chairman questioned him relentlessly: ‘Didst thou ever, after the accountant had made up the yearly accounts, alter any of the figures?’ asked the Quaker Cash, to which Hudson replied, very subdued and after hesitation, ‘Well, I may have perhaps added a thousand or two to the next accounts.’ ‘Didst thou alter the accounts to say £10,000 or even £40,000?’ the chairman added. Hudson replied nervously, ‘Maybe not as much as that.’ Cash ultimately did not press the point, but decreed ‘…thou should go home and write down these amounts’, much to Hudson’s relief.

Out of £545,714 distributed in dividends from 4 January 1845, to 4 July 1848, £115,278 was procured by the alteration of traffic accounts [TH37] , and £205,294 by wrongly charging capital accounts, making a total of £320,572, which was not subject to dividends. Out of £545,714 only £225,142 had been earned and therefore subject to dividends. The Observer recorded at this time that for four years £13,000,000, had been at the disposal of Hudson and Waddington [l38] to do with as they chose, making and unmaking dividends, acquiring traffic capital and revenue, pocketing cheques with no authority, re-directing sums to their own accounts and even charging hotel bills to the company. Hudson’s friends at Sunderland rallied loyally behind him, but to no avail. On May 4 [TH39] he sent a letter of resignation [TH40] .His brother-in-law, Richard Nicholson, was also implicated by The Prance Report and on the night of May 8 [l41] he left his house at Clifton and walked along the bank of the Ouse to Marygate and was never seen alive again. His body was recovered from the river the following day.

The news reached Hudson at Newby Park where he was struck with grief. Within days he had to attend the House of Commons where, on May17 he faced charges of bribery of his fellow members.[TH42] At first he was unable to speak. He stood, his large head lightly covered with grey hair with his broad forehead and penetrating eyes, looking pathetic, like an overgrown schoolboy. He began hesitatingly to say that he had never signed company cheques, but merely presided over them. He went on to say that he had taken a sanguine view of everything. If it were determined what should go to revenue and what should go to capital, there would be a clearer picture.

The majority heard his speech in stony silence. An investigative committee uncovered a web of deceit. One item alone showed Hudson himself had kept £37,350. Other accounts had been manipulated. Early in January 1850 Hudson consented to pay in instalments, a sum of over £100,000, in settlement of all claims made against him by the compan [l43] y. Subscribers were at least getting some of their investment back, but it appeared to be an admission of guilt.

Nevertheless, on June 20 1850, the Sunderland Dock opened, one of Hudson’s greatest achievements. There were fifty thousand spectators, cannons were fired and there were scenes of rejoicing. Hudson was in his element making speeches, referring to the High Level Bridge at Newcastle and now this magnificent dock. But the glitter of the occasion was short lived for the ‘Railway King’ as one after another, the Chancery cases came to court. The Solicitor General and the Master of the Rolls decided against him and Newby Park had to be sold. Hudson negotiated a settlement with the directors of the York and Midland [l44] in 1854, after which no more claims would be pressed against him.

Unfortunately, no sooner did he get this debt settled then another charge that he had bribed Members of Parliament emerged. On February 18 1854, a French Count sued him for £4,000 damages in connection with a contract to supply iron. This latest repayment meant that by the autumn of 1854 he had fallen into arrears with his payments to the York and North Midland Company [l45] . His parliamentary immunity protected him from his creditors while the Commons was in session, but in recess he had to resort to all kinds of evasive action to stay at liberty. He found it impossible to retrieve any of his fortune or do business with foreign rail companies, and the pressures of merely living were enormous. For a little peace he decided to go abroad and on August 12 1855 left for Spain. On reaching San Sebastian he became violently ill and was confined to bed for months. Very despondent, Hudson returned to England and Sunderland where he promised to attend better to his constituent’s problems as their MP, if re-elected. He was indeed returned and worked hard on their behalf. In recess he went to Paris to avoid his creditors.

Hudson’s wife managed to salvage a little money out of their wrecked affairs, living in lodgings in Belgravia. In November 1857, she was robbed of clothes and jewellery to the value of £200 and became traumatised with grief. Her second son, John, enjoying a brilliant military career as an officer in the 6th Carabineers serving in lndia, had been killed in the Indian Mutiny earlier that year. This was a terrible blow to the family. There was a further setback when their one remaining enterprise, the Sunderland Dock Company, in which Hudson had £60,000 invested, was reported to be doing badly. Lord Londonderry and other coal-owners appeared jealous of the docks and started boycotting the facilities. Seaham Harbour, Jarrow, Middlesborough and Hartlepool were all touting for trade, so the dividend at Sunderland could not be maintained.

Hudson lost his seat at Sunderland [TH46] and had to go quickly to Paris where he lived in exile to escape his creditors. In the autumn of 1859 Robert Stephenson died leaving his seat vacant at Whitby. The Whitby people loved Hudson, but he dare not venture back to England as his creditors would have him, and besides he was penniless. His old enemy H. S. Thompson of Moat Hall carried the seat.

Hudson travelled from one channel port to another living in cheap hotels, eating where and when he could. This was not doing his old medical condition any good at all and he was steadily growing shabbier and poorer. Creditors still hounded him relentlessly wishing to foreclose on his Whitby Estate. The Sunderland Dock Company was wound up and Hudson’s shares were worthless. In 1863 Charles Dickens came across Hudson when he was travelling to France and remarked, ‘I feel I should know that man’; Hudson, who was taking leave of a friend, was shabbily dressed and waving his high hat in a desolate and sad manner, Dickens, informed that it was Hudson, was amazed and recalled the incident in his autobiography.

Hudson failed because of his own faults, but we must also remember what he accomplished. In the early nineteenth century, England required an efficient rail system quickly to take advantage of the next twenty-five years, when most other countries in the world were struggling. Hudson succeeded with the help of Stephenson and other engineers to do just this. Together he and Stephenson produced a very efficient system capable of keeping England ahead of the other countries. Hudson was a rogue in many ways but a scrupulous, unselfish man might never have produced the railway. It perhaps needed a man whose ambition over-rode moral considerations.

An interpretation of the ‘Railway King’s’ character was given in a report by Dr. Robert Saudek, Europe’s leading graphologist who, on sight of a specimen of Hudson’s handwriting, and without any knowledge whatsoever of whose it was gave the following analysis:

Here is a man of tremendous temperament, nervous, irritable, neurotic and impatient – with himself, as well as others – gifted with farsightedness, grasping things at a moment’s notice, ever ready for combinations – lacks the ability to make himself easily understood, as his thinking would be faster than he could speak, and his instructions could be misinterpreted.

On8 June 1865, Hudson finally returned to England and Whitby to contest the Parliamentary seat there .In an address to a large public meeting, he promised to take West Cliff Estate back out of the hands of the railway company and develop it for the town. Early on Sunday morning July 8 and forty-eight hours before the poll, the Sheriff’s officer entered Hudson’s bedroom and arrested him for debt. Hudson was placed in the unsanitary old town prison at York Castle, where he stayed for three months. His creditors, mainly due to campaigning by the Whitby people, eventually released him. However, by now his health had completely deteriorated. Subsequently he and his wife were allowed to live quietly in retirement at 87 Churton Street, London. To his last day Hudson’s spirit was fresh and alive and he quite enjoyed talking of his experiences and eventual downfall.

His death came in the winter of 1871. He had come north to York to visit some old friends, staying at the house of J. L. Foster, one of the oldest of them when he became very ill with angina. Returning back to his wife in London, Hudson died on December 14. His remains were returned to York where they toured the city. Hudson’s family and friends were in attendance, including Close, his faithful secretary, Cabrey, the engineer and J. L. Foster the editor of[l47] ? The procession toured the valley of Derwent and the Yorkshire Wolds. Hudson’s body was interred in the churchyard at Scrayingham [TH48] .

Today, the tall grass hides the grave and the words carved on the gravestone of the once-mighty ‘Railway King’ have been obliterated.

There’s a bad time going, boys,
A bad time going!
Railway shares have seemed to be
A sink fore! Men’s property
In the bad times going.
Lines, which used to quarrel then,
To prove whose purse was stronger,
Shall be controlled by honest men…
Wait a little longer!"

Punch, 1848