Ushaw Moor Memories

Having previously given a brief mention to an Ushaw Moor girl, Sarah Ellen McGurk, in an earlier article I recently found myself sitting next to her daughter, Mrs Margaret Parks, at a University of the Third Age social history meeting about 265 miles south of Ushaw Moor! Margaret gave me the go ahead to write some brief notes about her family - as follows:

Sarah Ellen McGurk was born in Lanchester on 18th October 1900 and shortly afterwards lived at 10 South Street, Ushaw Moor, with her parents John and Margaret.

Her dad was born in Durham and worked as a local colliery coke drawer. Essentially he removed coke from the coke-oven by means of a tool that resembled a long handled shovel.

Sarah had a brother called Edward [seven years older than her] and a brother called Michael who was four years older. Michael, who was only about 5ft tall at the time and worked at the colliery as a pit pony boy. One day at the colliery his pony would not proceed any further – it then jumped and reared; as a result Michael’s leg was broken and he walked with a limp for the rest of his life. Much later he went to live with his niece Margaret Parks [see first paragraph] in Tottenham, North London. Margaret remembers him because of the amount of snuff he used!

Sarah had a sister, Mary Ann, as well as the brothers mentioned in the preceding paragraph. Mary Ann is not mentioned in the 1901 census so it is likely that she was born a little later - although it is just possible that she was staying at an address other than 9 South Street at the time of the Census.

It is known that Sarah’s mother, who was born in Bishop Auckland, used to bake cakes and hold coffee mornings to raise money to go towards the building of the Ushaw Moor Catholic School.

When Sarah left school she spent sometime working at the Ushaw College laundry.

Sarah died on 19/02/1972.

Now for some further notes supplied by Margaret Parks that might mean something to residents or ex residents of Ushaw Moor:

“The Griffin family included cousins of my mother Sarah Ellen McGurk.

The Keenan family [nee McNab] looked after the McGurk youngsters when their mother died. The Keenans settled in Brandon at 19 Commercial Street.

There were also relations living at New Brancepeth’’.

I will finish with a bit of information about the McGurk’s immediate neighbours in South Street during 1901:

9 South Street - Mr George Young [blacksmith] and his wife Mary. Their daughter Amy worked as a barmaid.

11 South Street – Mr Michael Collingwood [aged 24] coal miner and preacher born in Byers Green. Also his wife Hannah [aged 25] born at the Boyne [I suppose Langley Moor!]

Wilf Bell

Florence was a very popular name in Victorian times and there were lots of them in Sleetburn. Examples of the surnames of some of them, which might trigger memories, are as follows:

 

Beattie  living at 31 Harvey St. [Parents Isaac and Hannah]

Brown                Colliery View  [James and Elizabeth Jane]

Brownlow   [both mother and daughter called Florence] - Planting Row

Calvert                33 Harvey St. [William and Isabella]

Dixon                  15 Jubilee St.  [Joseph and Isabella]

Eggleston            48 Eshwood St. [Augustus and Mary Ann]

Wilf Bell

I managed to wake up[4.45 am] in time to make my way to Lowca Colliery for a 6am start in my new job as weighman. It turned out to be an incredibly monotonous job. I was required to keep a paper record of the weight of all the individual coal tubs that past by my little cabin, by reference to a big scale, and then total them for submission to the Colliery Manager’s Clerk. I did that for twelve hours a day, five days a week [excluding breaks for lunch]. The money was good but the job was way beneath the potential of any human being. I respected a man called Pat – he had lost the sight of one eye, probably in a mining accident.  Part of his job was to ensure that the coal tubs, which were freshly drawn from underground, got to me from the pit top without coming off the rails - and he did it in a very vigorous and efficient manner.  I remember another strongly built lad who appeared quite fresh in the morning but always took on a gaunt and haunted look by late afternoon. I sometimes spotted him in the street after work; with the benefit of a shower and smart clean clothing he looked almost a different person. Even in 1964 ‘screen lasses’ were employed at the pit to extract metals and stone from coal. They got tired and dirty but again I admired the fact that they put so much effort in for such low wages.

On the 7th of April 1964 I got out of bed at 4.45 am - Groundhog Day – I guess that you have seen the film - and eventually got to the bus stop to wait for the Lowca Colliery works bus. Two policemen approached me and one of them said to me “good morning sir, may I ask you what you are doing at a bus stop at quarter past five in the morning?” I replied that I was waiting for a bus. He expressed surprise and said ‘waiting for a bus – at this time – what is the number of the bus sir?” I explained that being a works bus, with Lowca Colliery as its destination, it did not have a number. He looked at his colleague – thanked me – and they both walked on. When I got home I told my mother about the incident and she replied that a man, John Alan West, had been brutally murdered, in his home, at about 4am. His house was not much more than thirty yards from the bus stop I used to wait for the bus. What had happened was that Peter Anthony Allen and his wife, together with their lodger Gwynne Owen Evans, had travelled from Preston to Seaton that morning. While Mrs Allen stayed in the car [thinking that the men were seeking a loan from Mr West] they went into his house and stabbed and battered him to death.  They stole two bank books and a watch. Evans left his raincoat behind and within it was a medallion - which was inscribed with his name!  Needless to say they were soon arrested and charged with Capital murder. They pleaded not guilty but the jury took only three hours to find them both guilty. They were hanged a few months later. It is notable that no further judicial hangings have taken place in the United Kingdom.  So I had been interviewed in a murder enquiry!

I have already hinted that my first few years in Workington were miserable.  I have often lambasted Workington whereas it would be a fair generalization to say that its people were hard working and honourable. As you know Workington is near the magnificent lakes so it was a missed opportunity. I was rudderless, clueless, unimaginative and going nowhere fast. I cannot recall receiving any advice from anyone about how to grow up and I seemed unable to fall back on a role model or rewarding education to help me think it through. The education I received at Ushaw Moor, County and Secondary Modern, was third rate – and I was one of the lucky ones in the A form! I am sure that many of the A formers could have done well in the GCE and enjoyed the employment opportunities and further education possibilities that came with it. I reckon that many of them would have done better than the bottom quarter of the grammar school pupils and gone on to better things – on reflection several of them did, sooner or later.Of course I was a teenager during this period: there comes a time when the moaning had to stop and the child has to make his/her way as an adult without blaming others. The likes of Lorna Bone, Edith Smith, Arthur Snaith and several others did very well in making sense of life and carving something out for themselves and their families.

I remember one Saturday night, when I was about 16, standing outside the Princess Hall in Workington after attending a dance. Most of the people at the dance seemed to be between 18 and 25 and were knocking the drink back and inhaling the tobacco like it was going out of fashion – In trying to relate to that world I might as well have been on the Moon without oxygen.  As I stood there I can recall that it was pouring down; the next thing I did was close my eyes and prayed for instant transportation back to Ushaw Moor .That was perhaps the ultimate sign of desperation, on several levels. On opening my eyes I was of course outside the Princess Hall in the rain and not caring how wet I got. On one occasion I remember making a date with some Cumbrian girl but I did not bother to turn up. My emotional intelligence had hit rock bottom and it would get worse before it got better – but it did get better eventually.

In the weeks ahead I began looking for a youth club – there must have been some but my search was haphazard. I did manage to find a Toc H but that did not help! You may know that Toc H is a Christian Service Club that is committed to building a fairer society - very laudable but not a youth club!

One rainy day, on my way back from work, I forgot to change gear going around a corner and was left with two stark choices: hit a car parked on the opposite side of the road, or hit the wall to its right. I chose the wall and fortunately it was my Lambretta that got damaged rather than me or the car.

Circumstances began to improve thanks to my befriending of some grand lads and the beginning of my support for Workington Football Club. That club came close to Derby County in my affections but of course it never quite achieved that. I remember Keith Burkinshaw stopping to give me a lift to the ground on match day and offering me a free ticket to get in. I thanked Keith, expressed my hope that he had a good game, and then said that I would pay to get in because of Workington FC’s financial problems!

I still had my copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover – I had bought that a few years earlier. The shop assistant gave it to me in a plain brown bag. Sadly I did not find D H Lawrence to be very good or particularly helpful! Mind you the celebrated Thomas Hardy sent me to sleep as well. It was the time of films based upon social commentary and deprivation like “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning”. I also remember the film “A Kind Of Loving”. There is little doubt that I was a self obsessed teenager struggling to be an adult; although I was far from alone with that - others have clearly coped with it so much better.

Now you might think that the article is self indulgent – Wilfie writing about himself again. Yes there is a bit of that but the overriding purpose is to keep the articles flowing to Paul. I am hoping that I have kept the site warm while some keen contributors are incubating! Come on lads and lasses your incubation is just about over - let’s have an article. I am impressed with the trickle of photos that have made it to the site. Thank you very much for sight of them and thank you Paul for the existence of the site.

Wilf Bell