Seaham or Seaham Harbour? (NZ430495)

To look at the map now, you would think that Seaham must have been there for ages.  Its piers reaching confidently out to sea, the lines of its railways – current and past – twisting their way through the town, to say nothing of the considerable scattering of churches, halls and the like thereabouts.  But almost all of that which is man-made between the modern-day A19 and the eastern seaboard has sprung up in the last 170 years or so.  Like many other settlements of the region, of course, it owes its spectacular growth to the Industrial Revolution.

Before the arrival of industry, ‘Seaham’ amounted to little in the way of conurbation, and centred on the still countrified environs of Seaham Hall, including the ancient church of St.Mary’s and the Old Vicarage, all of which lie a mile north of the town centre of today.  Even as late as 1894, it was described thus: “There is really no village of Seaham: the church and the residence of the rector constitutes what is known as Seaham, which is situated on the coast, about five miles south of Sunderland.”  What we now recognise as Seaham was, formerly ‘Seaham Harbour’, where, to quote the same 1894 source, “seventy years ago there was not a house or a path; and when it was proposed to create a port at the place, the project was treated as visionary and absurd.”  The harbour was build  in the early years of the Victorian era – curiously, at a point where no river meets the ocean – for the sole purpose of meeting the needs of industry, namely, getting coal and glass bottles out, and timber and silver sand in.  Pits were sunk, too, of course, in great profusion from the 1840s, leading to the creation of, among others, New Seaham, or Seaham Colliery, a little inland.

During the course of the early twentieth century, the variously-named settlements grew and merged into the Seaham we now see on the modern OS map – whilst swallowing nearby villages such as Dawdon; and leaving others, such as Dalton-le-Dale, the centre of the former ancient parish, languishing in the past.

The history of the town is well-served by many websites, which can be easily Googled.

The ‘Nicky-Nack’ Pit (NZ410496)

Seaham Colliery, opened in 1849, almost immediately acquired the nickname ‘The Nicky-Nack’ or, more simply, ‘The Nack’; though, as time passed, I suspect that not many folk knew quite why.

The story goes that in the 1820s and ‘30s a local man by the name of Tommy Chilton became well known in the vicinity of the future pit, being something of a local character.  He held the now long-gone windmill, and also ran the local pub, The Mill Inn (still standing).  Besides his dual career, he was also something of a technical genius, and regularly entertained folk with his ‘electrical devices’ (whatever they were).  Most famously, though, he had a talent for repairing women’s spinning wheels.

At the time, a model called the Knack-Reel was in use, with its distinctive ‘nicky-nack’ action.  These new-fangled contraptions were somewhat complex in arrangement and prone to mechanical failure – and in would step Mr Chilton to fix ‘em.  Tommy, it seems, had the knack, like no one else for miles around; and, in time, his dwelling at The Mill Inn became full of old spinning machines in various states of repair.  And so the inn came to be commonly known as ‘The Nicky-Nack’ – and Tommy, in turn, became ‘Tommy Nicky-Nack’.

So when, in 1849, a new coal shaft was sunk within a stone’s throw of Tommy and his inn, it, too, borrowed the curious tag of ‘The Nicky-Nack’ – or more commonly still, ‘The Nack’.

It’s true, I tell you.