17 minute read
Life Could Be Shocking in the 1950’s
By Harold Cunliffe
Life today is totally different from when I was a child; technology has changed our lives dramatically.
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Back then, should a member of the family be require to make a telephone call you had to travel to the end of the street to use the public call box, then placing pennies in to the coin box, pressing button “A” to be connected or “B” for a failed call and the return of your money. Many occasions having to wait for its use, plus standing next to the call box in inclement weather.
No central heating, no running hot water, a gas wall heater would provide water for use in the kitchen. No bathroom; our family used a ‘dolly tub,’ to bathe which was easier to empty than the tin bath. I remember the arrival of the television in 1957 watching my parents dancing round the room with the aerial trying to obtain a decent signal, all for the sake of two (part time) stations which were available. But the thing which was hard to cope with was the outside toilet; especially in winter. During the night if you took short you could use the receptacle, known as the ‘Edgar Allen,’ (Poe), which was located under the bed. During the mid 1950’s I can remember vividly my first day at school, St Wilfred’s at Newton Heath, an old Victorian building, which unfortunately retained one of its original facilities. It was strange that no one ever gave directions to the whereabouts of the toilets, they had no need too, it was a case of follow the smell. The Victorian toilet arrangements frightened me to death, ultimately bringing me into conflict with the teaching staff. A passage existed linking the playground with the adjoining street. A row of about ten old wooden doors were located on the left hand side from the school yard which carried evidence of previous use, thus being covered in names and graffiti carved into the wood by past pupils which had been preserved for posterity by being overpainted many times. Opening the closet door you encountered a box like structure which sported a flat wooden seat, in fact it was a painted plank with a hole in it. There were no means of flushing this facility after use, unlike a conventional toilet, similar to the one we had at home. Should you be brave enough to look down the toilet the waste was visible in the sewer deep below. The waste from previous use rested in this position until a device known as a ‘tippler’ came into action. A tippler was shaped like a small wheelbarrow receptacle which would fill with around two gallons of waste water from the kitchen sink. Once the required level of water was reached the container would over balance and tip, thus emptying its contents down the drain which would cause a rush of water to flush away whatever was in the drain below the toilet seat. Upon my first visit I happened to glance through the hole in which you had to sit upon, observing the drain below. To my horror I spotted a school cap. My young mind gave the vivid picture of a poor child who had fallen down the drain and sunk up to his neck in this filthy muck, he was unable to get out and perished, and to make matters worse no one cared, everyone was going to the toilet on top of him! I thought that the base was a pit, having no idea that the tippler would wash whatever was in the gulley below away, including on this occasion a cap.
Above: Raymond Cunliffe. Metal coating engineer by trade also a wizard with the internal combustion engine. Above: Outside W.C.
Should I encounter the call of nature during school time I would leave the classroom, run as fast as I could to our home which was in the next street. There I would climb over the back gate to use the toilet. This practice however was to come to a sudden halt when the teacher became suspicious. Whenever I was given permission to use the latrine she noticed that I was away twice the length of time as the other children. I realised that the game was up one warm sunny morning. I had left school and made my way home, settled myself into the outside toilet in the back yard, which was 47 Bennett Street, when I heard someone banging on the back yard gate. Still seated on the loo I overheard my mother having a conversation with my teacher, “I have come for Harold,” she exclaimed, my mother replied that her son was not at home but at school, “I took him there myself this morning.” This conversation promptly ended when they heard a flushing sound, I opened the toilet door, where I witnessed my mother and the teachers head spin round, both looking, without comment in my direction.
Should you have been unfortunate enough to have used a tippler type of toilet there was one thing that was consistent, the smell, they all had a distinct smell. A carter who worked for the local Co-op would offer advice upon how to restrict the smell in summer, he would advise the housewife to leave the cold water tap running at a low rate, which would keep the tippler active and would flush the drains a number of times throughout the day.
The description I have given is based on my own experience. Upon researching this form of waste disposal I find that it had a serious effect upon the health of the user. In one part of a Manchester suburb a young couple had put their baby in to its cot, and then to their horror the child was found to be dead the following morning. The child was left in the warm kitchen overnight. An inquest was held in which the Coroner found that the child had died from inhaling sewer gas which had made its way into the kitchen via the Belfast sink. A recommendation was given for this type of sink to have its outlet disconnected from the drain. Other types of sink had a trap fitted to prevent the poisonous gasses from entering the homes of users. Children by their very nature will be mischievous. A tale was related to me some years ago by a user of the tippler toilet. He related that young boys would make paper boats. Choosing a block of four or six cubicles they would wait until two or more toilets were occupied, next with perfect timing, as one of the gang operated the tippling mechanism, others would ignite the boats, floating them along the drain thus subjecting the users to a hot flash upon their bare bottoms.
One of the images used shows the rear gate of the Cunliffe’s Bennett Street home along with ‘the old fella,’ my late father, Raymond Cunliffe. He and his other two brothers were once well known in the district of Newton Heath. Harry and Norman owned flower shops, my dad worked at the Liver and Simpson Galvanising Works (Opened 1954, taken over in 1980), was known for his expertise in repairing motor vehicles. I really appreciate the advancement in technology within the motor vehicle industry, I only wish it had come sooner. As a young boy I remember the ‘old fella’ repairing cars in the back entry next the gate featured. At times I would assist him in the tuning of the engine. We left Newton Heath when I was seven, so I was at a tender age at this point. Dad would sit me on the bulbous wheel arch of the vehicle where I would be encouraged to put my finger in a hole in a certain part of the engine. Next dad would rotate the engine slowly using a handle which slotted in to the front bumper of the car. To enable him to ascertain the position of the top dead centre, at which a spark was emitted, I flinched; this then indicated the optimum point to set the ignition timing in the number one cylinder. Being a quick learner, whenever he turned up with a car to fix, Harold went missing. One of our neighbours had a three wheeled vehicle. Dad fixed that one day too. What was strange however was the procedure for starting the engine. The owner had to lift the bonnet, put his right leg inside the engine compartment and use a kick start like a motor cycle mechanism. The owner found this procedure embarrassing should he stall the engine at traffic lights. For some reason back then motor vehicles used a lot of water. Dad was always filling the radiator.
“Pure water and pure air are necessary to the well-being of the human race, without which life is hindered or destroyed,” was stated by Reginald E. Middleton, a member of the Institute of City Engineers during
Above: Work commences of the new reservoir at Greenbooth
the Victorian period. Middleton also commented, “Many towns and villages are in urgent need of a public water supply delivered to their homes or into a stand pipe situated near the houses.” At this period many people depended on a well. The most common size of bucket used was that which contained three gallons of water. This must have been an arduous task. In a house containing five persons this would require the bucket to be lowered and raised down a deep well over seventeen times a day to provide the family of five persons with the minimum quantity of water necessary for cleanliness. Residents who were of a more affluent position could pay to have their water supplied by a professional, a water carrier. Philip Kay was well known in a certain part of Manchester for supplying water to its inhabitants using, for fifty years, an old tin can! Kay would obtain his water from “Parsons Well, Parsons Field,” which I was informed many years ago was once an ancient burial ground. It is recorded in a 200 year old diary that the well at Parsons Field is famed as having an inexhaustible pure stream of water, which has supplied the inhabitants of the small village upon the hill overlooking the well.
Carrying out a search of my archive I find that the Kay family became well known with the community over the decades. Their professions include; an organ blower, farmer, solicitor, musician and a watch and clock specialist which included being the custodian of the ancient clock at the local church. Philip Kay who it was stated was of an eccentric character died at the age of 87 in the year 1862. His trade was of a hand-loom weaver, which he ceased when he was unable to make a living following the introduction steam power to the looms. In order to make a living he, in company with his wife became a water carrier. It was recorded at the time of his death that Philip would relate many a pleasing anecdote to his customers. Mr Kay is listed as the organ blower when the local Parish Church of St Leonard gained an organ. Kay who was dressed in a long black cloak, bound with red braiding, supplied by the church, would be seen each Sunday morning proudly heading the scholars from the local school to the church.
There must have been a considerable number of wells dotted around which supplied the inhabitants of towns and villages with water. Many may exist today being capped over. Becoming obsolete once mains water was available. On the road which leads to Rochdale stands a public house named the New Inn. This pub is situated in close proximity to an ancient burial ground. It was when workmen started structural alterations at the rear of the pub in the 1960’s that they discovered an old well which had been covered over with stone slabs. The well which was said to be in a remarkable state of preservation was five feet in diameter and had a depth of over thirty feet. I do wonder if anyone ever gave a thought to the purity of the water being positioned below a cemetery. During the Second World War pedestrians had a shock as they made their way towards Oldham. An ancient hostelry called the “Old Cock Inn” suddenly revealed a facility from its past, a large hole suddenly appeared which was seven feet wide and filled with water. The location of the well had been lost in time, until one elderly resident contacted the local newspaper, he remembered the location of a number of former wells within the centre of the town; some located inside buildings which still existed at that period.
It is well known that a brewery requires a constant supply of pure water. At the John William Lees
Above: Water Board manager is visible next to a silt trap Above: Central trench being built at Greenbooth Above: Mr Alex Herd, Manager of the Heywood and Middleton Water Board.
Brewery, Middleton Junction a well was sunk by a well-known master of his trade. Once completed it supplied a constant supply of pure cold water, even during spells of hot weather. Mr Joseph Malpas who was employed at the brewery did not return home from work at the specified time. His wife became concerned and a search was made. Malpas was nowhere to be found. The following day he did not turn up for work, but his coat and hat were in his room at the brewery. An exhaustive search was made of the premises and it was discovered that the board covering the well was broken. The well was eighty feet deep. The only way to inspect the well was to lower a member of staff down on a rope. At the bottom the employee witnessed the awful sight of the deceased, mutilated by the fall. In an interesting twist to this tragic story, the brewery was visited by a television crew which would seek out haunted buildings. A canteen now stands on the site of the disused well. British spiritual medium, Derek Acorah, when investigating this room froze at a certain spot and commented that someone had lost their life below where he was standing in a well accident. Derek Francis Johnson (Acorah) died in 2020 aged 69 years.
What follows is a true story. Looking back to the Victorian period it would seem that the quality of drinking water for many was very poor. The water quality available to the inmates in this next item was as bad as it can get. The water supply at a Manchester Workhouse was provided by a well within the grounds. A steam engine replaced manual labour and would drive a pump which would fill a large holding tank located at the top of the building. A tank was used at some height to maintain a constant supply to all the taps during heavy demand. The water supplied the outlets via gravity. A 36 year old painter was admitted to the male ward suffering from ‘delirium tremens.’ He was apprehended and considered not fit to be at large after he threatened to kill his wife and take his own life. No doubt the large quantities of lead used in the production process of paint in those days could have had some effect upon his wellbeing. It was normal procedure at the workhouse to keep a constant watch on patients who suffered this condition. But, he managed to escape. It was not unusual for those at the institution to escape. A search was made, also inquiries made with his wife, friends and family, but he had made good his escape, no one had seen him. Over two weeks had passed with no sightings of the missing painter. Then one Saturday evening a nurse reported to the governor of the workhouse that the water had a horrible and offensive stench; this was having an effect upon all those who consumed it, many had become unwell. The governor, Mr Mine, gave instructions for the water in the tank to be drained off and the supply stopped until investigations had taken place and the tank cleaned. The following morning the tank was empty of water, a party of workmen
Above: Water Board officials attend the opening ceremony at Greenbooth in the Naden Valley. was sent to investigate. The workmen upon entering the tank room were met with a sickening sight; the legs of a man were seen sticking out of the cistern. The body, in an advanced state of decomposition was removed. There was no doubt that the corpse was that of the missing painter who it was believed could not face his family and friends for being of a drunken and delirium state. The jury at the Coroner’s Court returned a verdict, “He committed Suicide while in an unsound state of mind, brought on by drinking.”
I suppose we give little thought to the luxury we encounter in living in our modern homes. Central heating, internet, mobile phones, and a little box we can ask a question and receive an instant answer. She can also turn your lights on and off. The Victorian housewife must have had a hard life always having to gain a supply of water. Today we have quality drinking water on tap, and unlike other utilities the water companies take back their used product for treatment.
For many years I have been a researcher and have documented local history. It is interesting to unearth the names those who did so much to improve the quality of the lives in the district. One such man, Mr Alexander Forbes Herd, had a great insight into the future of supplying clean safe water. He came to Lancashire from Yorkshire to take charge of the Heywood and Middleton Water Board. Mr Herd could foresee that the demand for water was going to be great in the post war years of the North Lancashire towns. It was amazing logistically how he undertook the supply of water to the vast new (Overspill) housing estate known back then as “Bowlee Park,” then later named “Langley Estate.” One of the projects Alex undertook was the construction of a new reservoir at the Naden Valley which would see the village of Greenbooth lost under millions of gallons of water. Just prior to his retirement he carried out the construction of a covered reservoir known as Hatter’s Farm Reservoir which held six million gallons of water. Personally I am grateful to him for documenting the work he was involved in; today a record exists for future generations. The Greenbooth images used in this feature were made available by the family of the late Mr Herd, taken from his personal archive courtesy of his granddaughter, Mrs Helen Stubbs This is very much appreciated.
Building a new reservoir is a costly undertaking. Originally the estimated cost of the Greenbooth reservoir was one and a quarter million pounds, the final total showing that it cost half a million pounds more. Subsequently in one way or another, customers of the Water Board have to cover the cost by an increase in the price of water. An article was published in a local newspaper giving details of the increase in the price of the water supply. One licensee commented that the price of water was too high and objected most strongly, “Once we would put water in the beer, but now it is cheaper to put beer in the water.”
The new Greenbooth reservoir covered an area of one thousand feet in width, completely submerging the village. Legend has it that on cold and stormy winter’s nights the church bell can be heard to ring out along the valley of Greenbooth. This is rather strange; the church did not have a bell.
