Hall for Nothing

By Harold Cunliffe

Above: Tonge Hall, 1907

Above: Tonge Hall prior to the arson attack It was a sad day back in early June, 2007, when an ancient hall in North Manchester suffered an arson attack.

The picturesque black and white Tonge Hall was quite amazing, not only historically, but for sporting many original timbers, but all is not lost, restoration has been slowly taking place to save the ancient building.

Growing up in town, observing this interesting ancient building from the exterior one wondered what the inside would be like. This hall had been in the hands of the Wolstencroft family for many years, then one day Captain Norman Wolstencroft invited yours truly for a guided tour. Over the years the building had remained untouched due to the previous owners not having the finances to chop, change and remodel the building, unlike many places which were occupied by the wealthy who constantly made many changes. Evidence of this is in an old craftsman’s diary which came to light. The information it contains details the work carried out at Heaton Hall, Hopwood Hall and other ancient manor houses in their quest to “keep up with the Jones’s”. It looks like this carpenter was the entrusted master craftsman to the wealthy. At Tonge many of the original ancient timbers still existed within the structure. On the day I toured the hall Norman took great pride in pointing out various historical items of interest made by former occupants. On one of the timbers were the initials prominently carved into the wood, made by the Tonge family, J.T. carved next to a fireplace, referring to John Tonge. You really felt the history of the place as you proceeded along the uneven floors and walls showing their age by being out of plumb. The relevance of previous ownership and tenants who occupied the building was brought to life once I was told about the several ghosts who frequented the hall. A film crew once captured a spirit as it walked around the exterior of the hall.

Another hall in this district which is on the ‘At Risk’ register is Hopwood Hall. This hall is currently owned by the Metropolitan Borough of Rochdale. Recently I unearthed a comment in a retro, Middleton Corporation Watch Committee minutes made by one of the elected representatives at the time the hall came up for sale. He questioned the wisdom and the purpose of acquiring the hall, he asked, “Who would maintain it? I am surprised that the money men of this Borough have not made their thoughts known. If we look at Alkrington Hall which the Council were keen to own, this became a white elephant to the ratepayer until it was sold off.” Hopwood Hall was purchased by the authority at that time despite the councillor’s comments, but, at that period it was in a good state of repair, but by 1969 the building suffered so much dry and wet rot it had to be gutted, with nearly all of the timbers being replaced by recycled timber. On a personal note I remember being in the Clough close by collecting bracken which was use as frost protection by the gardeners at the greenhouse complex. This material was placed over the cold frames each night to protect the plants from cold. Timbers from the hall were dotted around the grounds,

Above: Hopwood Hall in a good state of repair

Above: Hopwood Hall. New roof in the 1969 facelift

each sporting an identification tag which recorded the location in which the beams were located in the hall. I seem to remember that reclaimed timber, oak, was imported from the South of England with the timbers dotted around the hall, being in a state of advanced decay, were used as templates. The late Les Lord related that the Lancashire Cotton Corporation Ltd purchased the hall

when it came on the market during the Second World War. It was used as offices by the Corporation due to the Christmas blitz over Manchester causing a shortage. I find it amazing what turns up. During the period when I produced a weekly nostalgia column a woman who was associated with the Catholic Brotherhood who took over the hall at the end of the war, donated an interesting collection of documents and photographs which detailed the work carried out when the De-La-Salle training college was constructed. The file contained the original aerial photographs which show the site being developed.

LOST FOREVER

Two people documented the final days of the hall, the action taken in preparing the building prior to being offered for sale. A family descendant of the Gregge Hopwood’s wrote to say that in tracing his family connections it had been a hard task. At the time that the hall was being vacated instructions were given to the caretaker to clear the building, dispose of the entire contents. A large bonfire was made outside the hall being fed with paintings, tapestries, carpets, furniture and all of the Hopwood documents, a vast archive being lost. These not only included the items we use in genealogy today, but the Tote records of their horse racing. A local related the time he had assisted the caretaker in clearing the hall. Being of a tender age he did not realise the importance of the material which he was burning. He did however rescue a gun case from the fire which he used to store his fishing gear. It is interesting to note that Colonel Hopwood realised that following his demise and that of his wife, no Hopwood family members existed to inherit the hall, its grounds, mineral rights, and considerable income from rents. Robert Hopwood had listed the males of his bloodline and discovered no heir. Mr Edward Gregge of Chamber Hall was in the militia along with his friend, Mr Hopwood. It was when the Scotch rebels arrived in Preston in 1714 that Hopwood made an agreement with Mr Gregge, in that should he not survive the conflict then Gregge would become his heir. Edward Gregge in fact did acquire the Hopwood estate following the eventual demise of Mr Hopwood. The Gregge’s however could not believe their luck and decided to adapt their name as a mark of respect to the Hopwood family; they adopted the name of “Hopwood” being then known as “Gregge Hopwood.” In the past a number of people have made contact by stating that they were related to Mr Gregge Hopwood. Confusion would arise when I asked “Which one? This is a surname; Gregge is not a Christian name.” I was at the local studies one day when a chap stated that he was related to the architect, Edgar Wood. I have a vast archive so my interest was aroused as to where this gentleman fitted into the family line. My interest was short lived however when he commented, “My name is Wood, I was born in the same town as Edgar so I am related. “Plus, he added, “I have found another relative too, He is also called ‘Wood’ and has a wooden leg.” I explained that he required a family tree, and one which contains no gaps in its lineage.

CAUGHT RED HANDED (OR BARE FACED)

At the time Hopwood Hall was used as a Catholic Teacher Training College, a hostel was used two miles away on the Rochdale border. This was sold when dormitories were created at the hall. The students at the college were very well cared for. A chef complete with white hat was employed to provide the meals. The food was of the best quality I am reliably informed. As ever, boys will be boys. The chef became well known, and would provide refreshment to anyone passing, like the local bobby on the beat. It was better that left over food was not wasted. But it was disappointing when food disappeared out of the kitchen, especially the fridge or freezer. One morning the chef noticed the piece of beef he had been thawing was missing from his fridge. He mentioned the theft to a policeman who had visited the kitchen and had become friends. The culprit was identified by the trail of blood stains which led the officer to the room of the thief. Upon entering the dormitory the item was quickly discovered. To make the investigation fair, all the other rooms had to be searched. The P.C. carried out the search in what you could call, ‘autopilot’ as every room had the same layout. One side of the corridor had been searched, but upon starting the opposite side he was in for a surprise. I personally know this policeman, this is a true story, he said, “I searched the room like I did the others, a set of drawers, the bed, cupboard then when I opened the wardrobe I found a young girl standing bolt upright as if to attention and totally naked. Being a little surprised I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts, (I bet you did) then, closed the door without a word being spoken. It is not normal to stand in a wardrobe in this state, but it is not against the law to be naked in a wardrobe. The poor lass stood with her eyes tightly closed, she never opened them. Another tale was that Lord Byron once stayed at the hall, he left his mark by carving his initials onto a book case. Then one summer the De-La Salle brothers had a cleanup and chopped the bookcase up for the fire.

INTERESTING NEIGHBOURS

In newspaper terms, reporters feel that everyone has an interesting story to tell, and it is up to their expertise to retrieve it. No doubt this is true to a degree. It was following the death of a neighbour that an amazing story came to light which was related by his wife. Little did I realise at the time I greeted this elderly gentleman in his retirement, exchanging pleasantries as he tended his garden, washed his car and other tasks as I passed his home on my way to work, that this man and

his wife knew Queen Elizabeth II and her sister, Princess Margaret as young ladies during the Second World War. Mr Noon was one of the people based at Buckingham Palace during the period of conflict to protect the Royal family. Bob would relate the time spent at the Buckingham Palace to his close friends, when, during the long winter nights a group of those in service would put on plays, play games to entertain the Royal children. At times Princess Elizabeth and Margaret would join in. Mr Noon remembered the time when both the Princesses could not be found. It transpired that when the news broke announcing the end of the war in Europe (V.E. Day) they both left the Palace to mix with the celebrating crowds outside Buckingham Palace. Amazingly no one in the crowd recognised the Royal sisters. My daughter, wife and myself would keep an eye on our delightful elderly neighbour, helping her where we could, groceries, shopping, posting letters, collecting prescriptions and the like. Then one day when my daughter happened to call to see Tess she commented, handing her a large album, “Give that to your dad to look at, I am sure he would like to read it.” Normally a third party photo album containing family snapshots is of little interest, but this album was an exception, it was amazing. Bob had made a scrap book type album filled with items relating to his time at Buckingham Palace. Best of all were items made from gold thread. These items came from the Kings tunic, and contained actual ‘pips, emblems and badges.’ Bob would relate that the household would be in a frenzy when a new tunic arrived, this was because the moment the King disposed of his old tunic the staff would be in a rush to acquire items from the jacket before it was destroyed. First come, first to grab a memento. Other items in the collection were newspaper cuttings from the period, and one cutting stood out from the rest. This was taken from a Manchester newspaper and documented a post war Royal visit to Manchester, around the 1950’s or 60’s. An image within the article has the Royal couple on a platform with Mr & Mrs Noon standing close by. The text commented that upon visiting Manchester the Queen was keen to meet someone from this are who she had spent the war years with, this being Mr Noon. This was no doubt a proud moment for this humble couple who lived in North Manchester. Mrs Noon however had a claim to fame. While employed at an Oldham based outdoor weather wear manufacturer she became the model demonstrating their clothing as featured in their magazines. This came about by accident. One day when a model failed to turn up for a shoot at the factory, Tess Noon stood in. The management soon realised that they had a woman on their staff who could model their product, in which a considerable saving could be made. As a result, Hollinwood based, ‘Pack-A-Mac’ had a new pin up girl.

“SOMEWHERE? MY LOVE”

Mrs Alma Morris, (nee Ward), the woman seen in the centre of the photograph, lived in a small house, known as a two up and two down terraced house in the Monsall area of Manchester during wartime along with her husband Tom and her parents. Monsall is in close proximity to the centre of Manchester. At the time of the Manchester Blitz Tom helped out with A.R.P. on fire watching, firefighting and was a member of the rescue parties. On duty one night during the blitz the party found an air raid shelter which had suffered damage by being hit by a high explosive. Tom would never relate what he witnessed that night, he never mentioned to anyone, not even his wife the image of horror he experienced that night. In an attempt to make a little cash for his family Mr Morris would hire an ice cream cart, a type of cart with wooden wheels which had to be pushed from an Italian ice cream maker who lived close by. Mr Pessagno left Italy to make his way to England for a better life. He landed at Liverpool and walked to the Ardwick area of Manchester known as “Little Italy,” this being where a number of Italian’s had settled. Mr Pessagno would hire out his hand carts for a small amount of cash. The system worked by the person who hired the cart would be provided with a full tub of ice cream, plus wafers, which would be sold, the vendor would keep the profit made once the hire charge was deducted. Tom would often hire a cart and make his way to Piccadilly Gardens to sell his product. As the war progressed Tom was called up being entered in to the R.A.F. He was miles away from home during his service, serving abroad. Disaster struck one night when a German bomber destroyed the street in which they lived. Mrs Morris along with her parents upon leaving the air raid shelter witnessed the devastating scene of their home being reduced to a pile of rubble. Tom who was on active service had no idea that his family had lost everything, all of their belongings had been destroyed, and they only had what they stood up in, the items they had with them, mainly the clothes that they stood up in. The war at this time was coming to an end, but Alma managed to send a letter to her husband informing him that they

were fine and had been offered a house at the new estate at Alkrington Garden Village, around five miles north of where their old home once stood. The estate was given the name of, “Pines Estate.” A second letter was sent to Tom detailing the new address of his family, but this did not arrive prior to him being demobbed. Mr Morris made enquiries and made his way to the “Pines Estate,” thinking that someone would know his family. He arrived around 5.30pm on a Sunday evening, to find the streets empty. Next he walked slowly around the area shouting his wife’s name every few yards. As it was teatime I suppose many residents were listening to the radio. Then a ‘Brief Encounter’ moment followed, Alma happened to take refuse to the bin outside the back door and heard a voice in the distance, “Alma, Alma.” Instantly she recognised that it was the voice of ‘her Tom’ so quickly made her way along Oak Avenue to its junction with Brierley Drive, where she spotted her husband in the sitance. You can imagine the scene of them both running towards each other with arms wide open, followed by an emotional embrace. The war was over, they were both together again, and, would you believe it, they embraced outside the home of Mr and Mrs Noon.

The lady to the right of the photograph is Mrs Deakin. Her husband Bert was a lovely man. Bert Deakin became a friend of my family. He was a retired solicitor but kept his hand in by working part time. He once related that he would do the boring jobs like conveyancing, which was a well-paid job. Another duty Bert enjoyed was ‘snatch backs.” This was when the bailiffs would retrieve items in which the customer had failed to keep up their finance payments. This was the way Mr Deakin acquired his motor vehicles. He would pay the outstanding balance. I was his handy man who would check the car over, and other little jobs, like; change his tyre should he have a puncture. One day we were chatting in his dining room and I spotted a little sketch which depicted a man in a raincoat standing at a bus stop. I asked him about the drawing, wondering if he had produced it. “Oh no Harold, L.S.Lowry would pop in our Salford office from time to time. One day I said that I would sort out his request if he would wait ten minutes. He sat opposite me at my desk. After a couple of minutes he asked for a piece of paper to doodle upon, so I passed him a sheet. As Lowry was leaving the office he handed me his drawing, it depicted a man in the rain stood at the bus stop outside our office.” On my way home one night I noticed a fire engine outside his home, it transpired that a fire had started in the kitchen. As I passed by one of the firemen was next to the engine in breathing apparatus, I asked him to rescue the small drawing which is in the dining room, located on the chimney breast, he did not take me serious, until I mentioned that it is an original Lowry. Within a minute or two the valuable drawing was rescued. At this period the house was valued at around £7,000, the Lowry sketch exceeded this.

THE MALL

As a youngster I have vivid memories of being with mum on the shopping trips before the advent of the supermarkets and shopping centres. Back then everyone had a set of bags for this purpose. This was prior to the introduction of carrier bags. One of the bags allocated to myself was the “potato bag,” a dirty bag used for the vegetables, in which its weight turned me into a ‘beast of burden.’ I can still remember the conversation, the words spoken in the greengrocers, “Can I have some peas,” enquired my mother, “Yes my love, what would like? A pint?” The grocer would scoop a pint measure of peas out of a large drum and deposit the contents into a brown paper bag. No self-service, nothing was prepacked and nothing available out of season. It was during the winter months however that the shopping trip became a task. Walking to the shops and back in the bitter cold, made that much harder following a fall of snow. Winter’s in those days seemed to be much more severe than today. We were always so glad to be back home seated around a roaring coal fire. In the early 1970’s many Lancashire towns gained a new way of shopping, this did away with going from shop to shop and being battered by the elements of winter. The age of the shopping centre had arrived. The centre which was constructed in the centre of Middleton, Manchester was named the “Arndale,” and I think others were also given this title. One in Morecambe I seem to remember was given this name. Within the Middleton Centre a frieze was created in which events from the towns past was depicted. The artwork is still visible today. Recently the manager of the centre, Marie Gribben, made contact, and with the centre’s 50th anniversary being celebrated this year, she wanted to have an information board installed opposite the frieze which would explain the history of the artwork and what it depicted available for members of the public. Naturally we both got our heads together and the project is now progressing. Looking at the images which were made via the use of a high pressure sand blasting technique, we find that the “Luddite Movement” is documented; they visited this area and along with locals attempted to burn down a local mill. A decade ago I was requested to carry out some research into the “Luddite” period and the activities which took place. The following, which is very sad and shocking in parts, is taken from my research from that period.

An ancient diary recalled, “The sun blazing hotly as I endeavoured my journey along Manchester Old Road, with the balmy winds scented with the scent of hawthorn and fresh cut grass. The scenes around Alkrington Hall are of the most enchanting, but all the beauty and history of the neighbourhood does not centre there. The roadside around (Manchester Old Road) in fact teams with the most charming pictures of rural scenery.” Around this location there was a time when there were scenes of great excitement, destruction and loss of life.

At a certain period of time when people were out of work and starving, numerous food riots took place in various parts of Lancashire. This was caused by the heavy war taxes, depression in trade and the high cost of provisions. Many families went without food for days on end. In true Luddite style, the Burton and Sons factory located at Wood Street became the target of an ignorant mob. They assembled in Middleton with the intention of destroying the mill which was run by machinery. The crowd, which the newspapers of the time stated was in the region of two thousand people, smashed the windows to pieces by throwing stones, but should the mob gain entry to the mill it would have been totally destroyed.

In anticipation Burton had assembled a defending party who fired shots in the direction of the rioters, but not to fatally wound, they fired blanks, with no projectile being loaded into their weapons. The mob soon realised that they had suffered no loss of life so mounted a second attack, this however was short-lived when the next round of shots took upon a deadly effect. Ten people were wounded and four lay dead in the street. Those killed were named as Daniel Knott (20) and Joseph Jackson of Oldham (16), John Siddall of Radcliffe (22) and local man, George Albison of Boardman Lane, Rhodes.

MILITARY ACTION

The mob having witnessed the killing of four of its members decided to take no further action that night, but decided that they would return the following night being well prepared for a fight. The rioters arrived at the mill well-armed, brandishing everything they could muster including firearms. Upon arrival however they encountered opposition in the form of highly trained soldiers which had been introduced; at the slightest sign of trouble the mob would have suffered a great loss of life. Next the rioters marched to the home of the mill owner, Mr Emmanuel Burton, which was situated on Manchester Old Road. It was here that the mob crossed the line, they broke in and set fire to the house, causing total destruction. The rioters cheered as the house was ablaze, but little did they realise the ultimate consequences to their actions. A member of the group shouted a warning that the military were coming. Many tried to escape, but others foolishly remained. The military fired shots and five more men lost their lives, with many others being seriously wounded. The following day two bodies were found in a field. It transpired that they had been wounded and tried to make their way home, but consequently bled to death.

RIOTERS SHOCKED AND STUNNED

It is totally unacceptable to have a mob of rioters roaming around Lancashire intent on destroying property, risking lives and causing hardship. The powers that be decided to put a stop to those who behaved in this manner, their actions having a life changing effect upon many families, ultimately arriving at a most unexpected and dramatic conclusion. The Luddite rioters decided to destroy a mill fourteen miles away at Westhoughton, the town only had one mill. This town hit the news when a new mill was proposed, a silk mill. Businessmen were negative, one commented, “Why on earth build a mill in that town? It was a bold man who dust build a mill at Westhoughton.” A secret meeting was held during the month of April 1812 to discuss plans for the destruction of the Westhoughton factory. It transpired that as the mob made their way to the mill that a number of them were concerned that local people in the area could identify them, so another date was set. This time the rioters assembled in the Market Place and proudly marched along the streets to the mill, four abreast. Upon arrival at the mill they found the door was impenetrable, next the windows were broken to give access. A barrel of tallow was found which enriched the flames of the wood which was used to set alight the building; this timber once formed the frames used for weaving. Laughter and dancing took place as the building was destroyed by fire. It was not long after that the Scots Greys arrived and successfully arrested many of the culprits, who were transported to Lancaster. They were all brought to justice at a special session at the Lancaster court. In the holding room the men showed little fear, they expected to lose their freedom for three to six months, possibly with hard labour. The contingent from Middleton who supported the rioters expected to be incarcerated too. In fact, it was only those rioters who did not take an active part in the arson attack who were given custodial sentences. The mood in court changed dramatically when the sentences were announced by the Judge, Sir Alexander Knight. Returning from the court room many were in shock, some threw themselves on the floor, actually pulling their hair out. They were cursing those who gave evidence against them. Prisoner Job Fletcher is quoted as saying to one of his cell mates that as he was getting some dinner ready for his friend who was in court being sentenced, “He returned, grabbed my arm, and said,” with a look of total desperation, “Oh dear, dear, I must be hanged.” Prisoners at the Jail stated that those sentenced were taken away to the condemned cell, never to be seen again by the inmates or their families. The sentences were carried out into execution on June 11. One of those who was executed was a boy named Abraham Charleston, he was only twelve years of age, when on the scaffold he became very distressed and cried out for his mother, his pleading voice was heard moments before his execution. Family and friends travelled to Lancaster with a cart wanting to collect the bodies of their loved ones, their wish was to return them to the town of their birth. This request was refused. In court it was stated that the loss of the factory at Westhoughton had retarded the prosperity of the town.