The Witches of Hart (& Elwick) (NZ470351)

From A History of the County of Durham, Volume 3 (1928):-

Its near neighbourhood to the port of Hartlepool produced in Hart an unenviable number of witches and women of immoral life.  In 1454, ‘Helena de Inferno, alias morans in inferno, alias Meldrome,’ seems to have been as bad as her name implied.  On 28 July 1582, Alison Lawe of Hart was prosecuted for being ‘a notorious sorcerer and enchanter.’  Two women of the neighbourhood had consulted her and asked her for cures for the sick.  Fortunately this was before the outbreak of the witch superstition in the 17^th century, and Alison was condemned only to stand with a paper on her head once in Durham market, once in Hart Church and once in Norton Church.  She was peacefully buried at Hart six years later on 5 August 1588.  In 1596, Ellen Thompson ‘fornicatrix and excommunicated’ ‘was buried of ye people in ye chaer at ye entrance unto ye yeate or stile of ye church-yard on ye East thereof.’  On 12 February 1641, Old Mother Midnight of Elwick was buried, but it does not appear how she earned her name.

It is believed that the three latter, ‘confirmed’ witches are buried over the sty from Hart Cemetery so that locals could regularly walk over their graves in unconsecrated ground on their way to and from church.  This would ensure that they would be kept well-and-truly trodden underfoot.

Vulcan Over Wingate (NZ403372)

On 7^th January 1971, in broad daylight, an Avro Vulcan XM610 Bomber soared across the skies of the North-East before crashing into a field near Wingate in Co.Durham.  There was no loss of life, but the incident has entered local folklore – being especially vivid in the memories of those children of the local junior school who were staring up at the roaring aircraft as it fell to earth yards from their playground.

It all started as a routine practise sortie across the North Sea and the rural reaches of the Borders, until metal fatigue in one of the engines sent the warplane and its five-man crew into panic stations.  As Captain Bob Alcock ordered his crew to eject one by one, he wrestled with the controls with ever-increasing desperation – but all to no avail, the Vulcan giving up the ghost as it careered across Northumberland and East Durham.

Alcock directed the aircraft sea-ward and ejected.  Unfortunately, the Vulcan had other ideas and dipped downwards, smashing deep into a farmer’s field between Wingate and Station Town – 100 yards from the aforementioned school.  For their attempts to save the plane, and their efforts to steer it clear of settlements, the crew all received awards – Alcock gaining the Air Force Cross.

More detail can be found at www.neam.co.uk/wingate.html, with some interesting comment at www.seaham.org.uk/forum/showthread.php?t=232 .  Eye-witness accounts seem to vary slightly, and doubts have been cast upon the pilot’s alleged attempts to steer the plane to a ‘safe’ crash.

An interesting piece of recent history.

Catherine of Wingate (NZ377377)

Catherine Howard, fifth wife of Henry VIII, is thought to have been born in Wingate, Co.Durham – probably, one can safely assume, in the little hamlet now known as ‘Old Wingate’ a little to the west of the coalmining creation that is the modern-day Wingate.

Admittedly, Catherine’s exact date and place of birth have never been proved beyond doubt.  Even the year of the event itself has been given variously as anywhere between 1518 and 1524.  She was the daughter of Lord Edmund Howard and Joyce Culpeper, and was technically a commoner.  A very young Catherine married an ageing Henry in the summer of 1540 at Oatlands Palace in Surrey.

The young woman was soon in trouble with the powers-that-be.  Rumours began circulating almost immediately of her infidelities – especially with courtier Thomas Culpeper.  Proof was slowly collected by dubious means, it being necessary, eventually, to manufacture a new law (actually, a bill of attainder) which made it treason, and punishable by death, for a queen consort to fail to disclose her sexual history to the king within twenty days of their marriage, or to incite someone to commit adultery with her.  In February 1542 – within two years of her marriage – she was sent to her grave by way of a single blow of the executioner’s axe.  She may not even have been out of her teens.

The Castle Eden Beaker (NZ428384)

The Castle Eden Beaker, now housed at the British Museum, is a classic example of what is commonly known as a ‘claw beaker’ – for obvious reasons – and is a remarkable survival of the early years of Anglo-Saxon England.  This exquisite relic measures approximately 19cm in height by 9.5cm in diameter.

Dated to the late 5^th century AD and of Frankish origin, it was unearthed under a hedge near to St.James Church, Castle Eden, a little to the south of Peterlee, in 1775.  The area, at the time being worked upon by local landowner, Rowland Burdon (the church had been built only a few years previously), was found by a humble estate worker.  The base of the item was protruding out of the ground when found.

The piece must have been imported in the decades after the Roman legions left these shores – perhaps as a possession of its migrant continental owner – and was carefully buried as the sole grave good alongside its human partner as part of an elaborate ceremony.  It must have been a highly treasured possession.

The item is made of pale greenish-blue glass with blue trails.  Both body and claws are all ‘blown’, with the latter having been applied to the cooled body as a lump of glass which was then blown into shape through the wall, drawn out and reattached to the body.  After its discovery, it was passed down through various families and individuals, until it arrived, still intact, at the British Museum in 1947.

It is the only one of its kind to be found in England.

Get Carter Finale (NZ465400)

© Copyright Andrew Curtis and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Blackhall Beach.  The wasted shore, the aerial flight.  And Jack Carter finally gets his revenge in the climactic scene of the classic 1971 gangster flick, Get Carter.  Today, faint traces of former days of industry can be made out as per the above image, with the line of the aerial flight still discernible by way of the concrete channel running across the foreground.  The overhead conveyor once carried coal waste from nearby Blackhall Colliery over and out to sea – and provided Michael Caine with a handy means of disposing of the body of his final on-screen kill forty years ago. 

The black beach and its coaly waves are beginning to disappear, too, thankfully – though one can’t quite yet call it pretty.

More excellent ‘then and now’ shots here (and use the ‘back’ and ‘next’ button for more).

Mr Peter Lee (NZ420400)

Founded in 1948, the County Durham town of Peterlee is named after the famed miners’ leader of the same name, that is, Peter Lee.  But who was this man who had the unusual distinction of having a brand new settlement bear his name?

Lee was born in 1864 in Trimdon Grange, in the delightfully-named Duff Heap Row.  He was one of eight children and, naturally, found himself thrown down the Durham pits from an early age.  By the time he was 21 he had worked at 15 different collieries.

Despite having little schooling, his mother’s love of reading gave Lee a lifelong drive towards self-education – though he didn’t learn to read and write until his early 20s.  Seeking wider horizons, he emigrated to the USA in 1886, where he worked the mines of Ohio, Pennsylvania and Kentucky.  He returned to County Durham in 1888, and became a delegate to the Miners’ Conference for Wingate Pit.  He married, too, in 1888, and continued to develop his various interests and career for the next few years.

A trip to South Africa in 1896 proved a turning point in his life.  He became a born-again Christian and, on his return to his homeland, added Methodist preaching to his spare-time obsessions.  From 1900, he found himself working at Wheatley Hill as a checkweighman, and moved onto the parish council – eventually becoming its chairman.  He was now responsible for much of the necessities of everyday life: sanitation, new roads, cemeteries, etc.; and as chairman, too, of the local Co-operative, he was becoming highly influential in local affairs.

He was elected chairman of the Durham County Water Board, then joined the County Council itself in 1909 – eventually becoming its chairman in 1919 (England's first Labour county council).  In the meantime, he continued to campaign vigourously for improvements to the welfare of miners, rising through the ranks of, firstly, local organisations, then the Miners’ Federation of Great Britain (the forerunner of the National Union of Mineworkers) – becoming its president in 1932.

He died in 1935, having very much established himself as a local hero, and was interred in Wheatley Hill Cemetery.

Turning The Tide

What does a historian make of a project designed to wipe all traces of industrial activity from a stretch of coastline in an attempt to revert it to its former, natural beauty?  In the case of the Durham Heritage Coast, as it is now called, surely no one can complain.  For as recently as the early 1990s, the East Durham seaboard was an industrial wasteland, made famous by distinctly unglamorous appearances in such films as Get Carter and Alien 3.

A century of coal mining activity had scarred the coast beyond recognition, waste-dumping from the scattering of collieries betwix the Tyne and the Tees placing the beaches in some areas beneath ten metres of black slag and poisoning the water and its natural habitat for several miles out to sea.  Flora and fauna were devastated.  Come the closure of the pits in the years leading up to the early 1990s, locals had long since turned their backs on the disgusting mess and cared little for nature’s woes in the face of their own collective economic plight.

The mid-‘90s saw a sea-change, though.  With the availability of Lottery Fund cash, the local authorities rallied, and, with the help of a host of other organisations and vested interests, launched the ‘Turning The Tide’ (TTT) project in 1997 – and the clearance work began.  Astonishingly, within its five-year remit, TTT had utterly transformed the landscape: by 2002 the coastline was well on its way to an incredible recovery – a process now being continued by local groups, the Durham Heritage Coast Partnership and nature itself.

Today there are 15 miles of new coastal footpaths and more than 30 miles of cycleways criss-crossing a unique magnesian limestone landscape which is home to all manner of rare and beautiful plants, insects and animals – all suitably protected by law and freed from farming use.  For once, the wiping of our historic past has been welcomed by one and all – though it lives in on a scattering of information panels the length of the coastline.

The video, here, says and shows it all.

Captain of the North (NZ443412)

Ex-professional footballer Stan Anderson published an autobiography in 2010 entitled Captain of the North (see here).  Never can a book have borne a more appropriate title: for the man in question is the only individual, ever, to have captained each of the region’s ‘Big Three’ football clubs – Sunderland, Newcastle and Middlesbrough.  Stan was a cultured, whole-hearted midfielder with an eye for goal; considered to be ahead of his time by many in the way he played and thought about the game.

Anderson was born on 27^th February 1934* in Horden, Co.Durham.  After turning out for the colliery’s team as a teenager whilst learning plastering and plumbing, he eventually signed professional forms for Sunderland in 1951 and made over 400 appearances for the red and whites – gaining two England caps in 1962 and forming part of his country’s 1962 World Cup squad.

In 1963, he moved to rivals Newcastle United, where he stayed for two years, steering them to promotion in 1965.  He then signed for Middlesbrough as player-coach, then became manager during 1966-73 (amazingly, he had been rejected by the Teesside club whilst playing for Horden Colliery).  Thereafter, he had spells as a manager at AEK Athens, QPR, Donaster Rovers and Bolton Wanderers, before retiring to care for his wife in 1981.

He is now into his late 70s and lives in Doncaster.

* Strangely, his exact date of birth varies between sources – 27^th February 1933 and 12^th December 1933 are also given.  If you’re reading this, Stan, do put me straight!

The Deserted Village That Never Was (NZ432417)

Well, sort of, anyway.  The so-called ‘Yoden Village’, still shown on most modern-day maps a little to the north of Peterlee, certainly existed – but it was never known as Yoden, so far as recent historical research has been able to ascertain. 

The origins of this curious little settlement have long been in dispute, with initial, erroneous, assumptions setting its roots in the pre-Conquest era.  Simeon of Durham, writing in the early 1100s, was long thought to be referring to the site with his ‘Ioden’ and ‘Geodene’ place-names, but these are now thought to refer to ‘Eden’ to the south of Peterlee.  Nineteenth century antiquarian, Robert Surtees, seems to have invented (or reinforced) the myth by ascribing the term ‘Yoden’ to the site in the pre-Victorian era.  ‘Yoden’ doesn’t even appear on OS maps until the back end of the nineteenth century – prior to this (and especially prior to Surtees), the place seems to have been unnamed.

Scholars, it seems, were complicating the matter quite unnecessarily.  Current theories identify the ‘deserted medieval village’ in question simply as that of ‘medieval Horden’.  Modern-day Horden lies about a mile to the east, of course, so it makes sense.  Moreover, it lasted for just a century: from around 1335 to 1431, after which quarrying overtook the site (with any earlier, ‘Anglo-Saxon’ village more likely to have been around Horden Hall to the north).  It probably consisted of no more than two rows of eight crofts in total.

For detailed speculation, maps, and the like, see here.

The Temporary Ghost Town (NZ397410)

Shotton Colliery was a nineteenth century ‘new town’, built a mile or so to the north-west of old Shotton village.  The pit was sunk and began operations in the early 1840s, struggled on for a few decades – never being very profitable (if at all) – before closing in the mid 1870s.

The 1881 census returns for the colliery town indicate that a huge number of houses were empty, which has led historians to believe that the place was akin to a ghost town.  When the pit closed, folk had no alternative but to up sticks and move in their search for work – a common enough exercise for your average pitman family.  The houses built during the 1840s and ‘50s were simply left behind as the workforce moved on.  As the 1880s and ‘90s progressed, the population grew even thinner, until only a handful of folk rattled around the empty streets.

However, in 1901 the pit was reopened, the houses re-fitted within weeks (it seems that no vandalism had taken place), and the town burst back into life.  By 1906, over a thousand men and boys were in employment, rising to almost 2,000 by 1913.  The coke ovens and brickworks were reopened, too.  It quite literally boomed.

In the 1950s, however, the decline began to set in again.  Prior to the colliery’s final closure in 1972, most of the old housing had been demolished – and today there is little sign that a pit ever existed there.

Further reading here.  Pictures here.

Haswell Colliery Disaster (NZ373423)

28^th Sept 1844 – One of the most destructive explosions which ever occurred in the Durham coal field took place at Haswell colliery, the property of Messrs Plummer, Taylor, and Co., when ninety-five human beings were deprived of life. The explosion occurred in the Hutton seam, almost immediately after a fall of stone from the roof, which had liberated a vast quantity of gas; and only four persons in the mine succeeded in escaping.  On the 30th, fifty-four bodies were interred side by side in South Hetton churchyard, thirty-one at Easington, and the remainder at more distant places. The pit had been seven years at work, and was considered a very safe one. A subscription was immediately set on foot for the relief of the sufferers, and the sum received amounted to £4,264.

[From Local Historian's Table Book of Remarkable Occurrences Connected with the Counties of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, Northumberland and Durham by M.A. Richardson]

Ironically, the disaster struck a few weeks after the debilitating Miners’ Strike of 1844.  The colliery had opened in 1835 and closed in 1896.  Nothing of the colliery village remains – though a ruined fragment of the pithead itself still stands, accompanied by a modern-day memorial to the 95 dead.

The Easington Hare (NZ415435)

In days of old when hare coursing and hunting were a popular sport, the men of the area around Easington were constantly taunted by an animal which seemed forever beyond their grasp, namely, the legendary Easington Hare.

One day, when they were out hunting, they fell upon the troublesome creature in Castle Eden Dene, a couple of miles to the south of the village.  Setting off in pursuit with their bloodhounds leading the way, the men chased the hare across the fields until they reached Easington village.  Here, however, the beast gave them the slip once more, squeezing through a hole in the wall of a cottage – but not before one of the dogs had briefly grabbed its rear leg.

Hastening indoors, the hunting party found nothing within the building save for an old women nervously tending her injured leg.  The secret of the mysterious hare’s seemingly supernatural powers had been uncovered!  The men turned and left the woman and her home, and never again were they troubled by the pesky creature.

Seaton Holme (NZ413435)

© Copyright Andrew Curtis and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Seaton Holme, Easington, is one of the oldest domestic buildings in England.  What was once originally a medieval manor house is thought to date from the 1240s, and was built upon an even earlier timber-framed, Anglo-Saxon effort.  It has, of course, been substantially altered over the centuries.

The building has had many uses over the years, being a dwelling house for the Bishops and Archdeacons of Durham until 1832, then serving as the Rectory to nearby St.Mary’s Church.  In 1921 it became a children’s home, but has in recent decades spent much of its time falling into a state of disrepair.  It was recently renovated and re-opened by HRH The Duke of Gloucester in 1992, and now serves the community as a Discovery Centre for the area’s local and natural history and a meeting/conference venue.

Legend has it that Seaton Holme was once the home of Nicholas Breakspear, who went on to become the only English Pope, under the name of Adrian IV (died 1159) – though he is known to have been born in Hertfordshire, and no one quite knows where the story came from!

Hawthorn Hive (NZ442460)

Where Hawthorn Dene and its Burn meet the sea can be found…

… A small bay, called Hawthorn Hythe [Hive] …  sheltered by a reef or natural pier called the Skaw. The rocks of the coast are broken, rugged, and pierced with caverns.  Fifty ships, with all their crews, were lost on 25* Nov. 1824, on the Skaw; and fires used to be kindled on Beacon Hill, on the S side, to warn mariners off. 

[Imperial Gazetteer of England and Wales (1870-72)]

* some sources say 5^th.  And at least one other source also has the crew of one of the fifty vessels being saved, thus:

On the 5th of November, 1824, not less than 50 vessels perished in a storm immediately off this part, and the crews of all were lost, with the exception of the crew of one only, who were enabled to effect their escape by means of a rope, thrown from the vessel, and brought to land by a Newfoundland dog belonging to Major Anderson. 

[A Topographical Dictionary of England (1848)]

Cavemen of Seaham (c.NZ442462)

A newspaper cutting from the Northern Echo of 25^th June 1913, refers to an Inquest held following the death of John Gallagher, 31, a miner of no fixed abode, who died in a cave on Hawthorn Beach.  The poor man’s demise brought to the public’s attention “once again” the problem of the cave dwellers of Seaham.

Apparently, for five weeks prior to his death both the deceased and his brother had been living on bread, butter and bacon in a cave two miles south of Seaham Harbour – as part of a roving community, it seems.  Continually evicted by the police, these poor folk would simply move onto neighbouring caves – their old haunts being taken over within hours by their brethren.

The Inquest report dwelled on the future policing policy in the area, with rather more concern being shown for the meeting of the costs and expenses incurred by this sad incident than sympathy expressed for the victim and his associates.

P.S. I should be pleased to know if anyone has any further information on this story.

[Thanks to Jan Coyne]

Hawthorn Tower(s) (NZ438461)

 

This lovely little effort didn’t exist pre-1820, nor is there any trace of it left today, amazingly enough.  Hawthorn Tower(s), originally known as Hawthorn Cottage, was built in 1821 to the designs of John Dobson for Major George Anderson, a Newcastle big-wig.  Anderson died in 1831, but his wife lived on in the property until her death in the 1850s – afterwhich the Pembertons assumed ownership and renamed it Hawthorn Tower(s).  At some point in the 1850s, it was also extended in size.

In 1910, the Pembertons vacated the premsies, and let the pile out, firstly, to colliery agent Malcolm Dillon, then to another colliery official, Mr Henegan.  In 1930, the Boys' Brigade rented the Tower for weekend camps, and it was used during World War II by the military and the Home Guard.  The Pembertons then returned briefly, before selling up in c.1949 to a South Shields man.  Several more sales followed, during which period the house fell into a state of decay.  Vandals help send the structure to its ultimate demolition in 1969 after a man was killed by a partial collapse.  Today nothing remains.  It’s as if the old place never existed.

There’s a fair bit more to be found on Hawthorn Tower(s) – including the nineteenth century census returns for the structure – at the DurhamRecordsOnline website, here.

Kinley Hill Tower (NZ430467)

This curious gazebo-like affair sits atop a lofty prominence overlooking the surrounding countryside a mile or two south of Seaham.  For risk of breaching copyright, please see the structure’s form here.  As you will observe, it was a splendid little landmark before the storms of December 2006.

The two-storey affair was built as little more than an eye-catcher – a folly – by Major George Anderson of nearby Hawthorn Tower around 1830 – and indeed was for years known as ‘Anderson’s Folly’.  It was probably used as a summer house by the estate during Victorian times, but several sources state that it became a residence around the turn of the twentieth century (as is evidenced by remains of a privy and midden).

It may soon become a holiday cottage after remedial work has been completed.  Or perhaps it already has!  Do let me know if you can enlighten me further.

P.S. Have just found an up-to-date picture here.

Growth of a Pit Town (NZ388472)

So many of the North-East’s towns of today began life as tiny hamlets at the dawn of the nineteenth century, only to be transformed as pits were sunk and workers and their families came flooding in.  Utterly typical of this dramatic metamorphosis is that which occurred at Murton, Co.Durham…

Population

1801: 75

1811: 71

1821: 72

1831: 98

First pit sunk 1838

1841: 521

Coalmining begins 1843

1851: 1,387

1861: 2,104

1871: 3,017

1881: 4,710

1891: 5,052

1901: 6,514

Present: c.7,300

Another interesting comparison is the Tithe map of 1777:

... with the present-day layout here (which I can’t reproduce for reasons of copyright).

Astonishing.

And now all the pits, without exception, have gone.

[1777 map taken from www.murtonheritagesociety.co.uk]

Nose’s Point & the Blast Beach (NZ438478)

© Copyright Brian Abbott and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

This abandoned corner of the North-East has seen more than its fair share of industrial blight over the years.  The heights of Nose’s Point and thereabouts have seen ironworks, a bottle factory and a chemical works built, thrive and demolished over the years – as well as, of course, Dawdon Colliery, which closed in 1991.  Add to the mix random railways and a ballast dumping ground for merchant ships, and it is a wonder that it looks as scenic as it does today.  Blast Beach, seen in the foreground of the picture above probably got its name from the blast furnaces of the ironworks, or is perhaps a slight corruption of the word ballast.


Such was the state of the area prior to its recent clean-up that the headland used to protrude further out to sea thanks to the dumping of industrial waste – and a platform, or crust, of compacted slag and slurry covered the beach, again extending far out into the waves (you can still see the edge, or lip, of this artificial surface where the rocky beach abuts the land).  It looked so barren that it was used in the opening scenes of the film Alien 3 in 1992.

With the retreat of industry, nature – with a little help from man – has largely wiped the grime from the shores and the cliffs.  However, with the protective coating of waste now gone, coastal erosion is a major concern.

Dalden Tower (NZ420487)

© Copyright Andrew Curtis and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Seemingly an early form of the modern-day village name of Dalton(-le-Dale), ‘Dalden’ Tower was built at least as early as 1375, when it passed from the hands of the Escolland family to the Bowes family.  Prior to the switch, the Escollands had changed their name to Dalden, the name of the village – hence the name of the structure.


For two centuries it remained a popular and well-used residence for the Bowes family, subsequently passing through the hands of the Collingwoods, Millbankes and Londonderrys, but it has been derelict since at least the early 1700s.  What remains implies that the structure was lofty, though not especially designed for defence – more residential, in fact; though there is some evidence of a moat. The living quarters on the ground floor were clearly high status, with elaborate fireplaces, as well as remains of two small shields dating from the 14^th century.

There is little to indicate what the upper portions of the building may have looked like; but a tower seems likely (16^th century), as well as, possibly, a circular turret, as evidenced by traces of a spiral staircase.  The site has been excavated twice, in the 1960s and the 1980s.

More pictures here.