General

As a little girl, a lot of my time was spent at my gran’s house at Widdrington Station.  She had grown up at Widdrington Colliery and would often regale me with stories of her childhood.  Many of the tales revolved around ‘Paradise’, near West Chevington.  I became fascinated with the tales of the isolation hospital there, and visited many times as a child – before the area was opencasted – wandering through the buildings.  

There was always quite a spooky feel to the site, which we entered through quite a large wooden gate (it may have been a normal size gate, I was quite small at the time!).  On one late afternoon trip, I remember hearing strange noises in one of the buildings, which left me paralysed with fear until a lone sheep decided to wander out through the door!  I think it was on that occasion that I looked in the building and noticed that there was still a bed in place, with blankets upon it.  It felt as if everyone had walked out one day, never to return, leaving everything in its place.

Fast forward a few (!) years, and I find myself working at Northumberland Archives, wondering if there is any information on one of my childhood haunts.  Actual records from isolation hospitals are one of the gaps in our collections, but there is other information lurking if you know where to look.  Looking at the OS maps, I found the isolation hospital on a copy of the 3rd edition (1925) map [ref. sheet LI.SE].  My next move was to look through local newspapers, to establish a timeline for the hospital, and learn more about its history.  The Morpeth Herald was where I found mention of the hospital, because it was operated by the Morpeth Rural District Council.

In July 1902, Morpeth Rural District Council had decided that the best site for an isolation hospital was on Chevington Moor, near Chevington Station, as it was near a water supply.  It took until May 1903 for the draft contract for the site to be drawn up by Lord Grey’s solicitor.  By August 1903, reports noted that the ground at the site had been levelled and, as smallpox was currently rife, building was urged to begin as soon as possible.  The site comprised 12 acres, and the lease was to be for 48 years, at £12 per annum, to commence 12 May 1904.  

The Morpeth Herald on 19 September 1903 reports that the isolation hospital would be ready to accept patients in 10 days, and that the “appearance of the hospital is very attractive, the surrounding air health-inspiring…”  It was also noted that 300 yards west of the hospital and on a direct line with it, was an old roofless engine-house, that would make an excellent smallpox hospital.  On 26 May 1904, the Hospital was inspected by the District Council’s Hospital Committee – it is interesting to note that in this newspaper article, the site of the Hospital is referred to as Paradise, the only time I have found written evidence of it being called this.  Two trees were planted on the occasion of the visit, one by the Chairman, Mr. T. Hudson, and one by the Medical Officer, Dr. William Clarkson.  24 cases of smallpox had been recently treated there (four of them of a very severe nature), and all patients had survived.

We then jump to 1911 for the next mention of the hospital.  A Mr. William Wilson was appointed caretaker out of 14 applicants in May of that year, and in November there is a report from the Doctor regarding the possible conversion of the old engine-house, which is worth reading:
“At present we have a smallpox hospital, which accommodates 20 patients, and there is the old engine-room, which is not fitted out, and I consider it would not be wise to equip it, as it would only accommodate four beds, or six for some diseases.  It would require new windows, the walls plastered, and the roof sealed.  Then it must be divided into two and nurses’ accommodation added…”

The Doctor concluded that it was best to keep the current hospital as a smallpox hospital as it was very isolated, and to select another position as a fever hospital. In 1912 and 1913, there was much discussion at the local council meetings regarding the use of the hospital as a central isolation hospital.  It was argued that it couldn’t be used to isolate cases of fever because it was set apart purely for smallpox cases, the counter argument was that it could be used for one infectious disease at a time, but that a nurse would need to be appointed.  We then jump to 1919, when a separate typhoid hospital in Longhirst was being proposed, as Chevington couldn’t accept typhoid cases.

Substantial entries for the hospital peter out at this point, and I turned to the Medical Officer of Health [MOH] Reports for Morpeth Rural District Council, for information [ref. CC/CH/MOH/1/19].  In the 1920 MOH report, one of the sites recommended for the Infectious Hospital (presumably the one proposed for Longhirst originally, for typhoid cases) was on a neighbouring site to the ‘Smallpox Hospital’ (Chevington), and the other on Morpeth Moor.  By 1921, the Reports are talking about a Fever Hospital, for which there is no government money available, and the answer might be to create a Union Hospital by joining with several neighbouring Councils.

Part two to follow…..

Earlier in the year I was asked to write an article about Dr Ethel Williams, Newcastle’s first female GP and suffragist, who retired to Stocksfield in 1924.  I was keen to continue learning more about the life of this remarkable lady and some of her friends and associates, in particular once the office re-opened exploring the resources available at Northumberland Archives.  Whilst there are many areas of Ethel’s life I am keen to explore, I decided to find out about her final resting place first. 

Newspaper articles and obituaries at the time of her death in January 1948 indicated that Ethel had died at home.  The Newcastle Journal reported that the funeral was to be held at Hindley Churchyard, Stocksfield.  The will of Mabel Annie Burnip, Ethel’s private secretary and main beneficiary, set aside a sum of money for the upkeep of Ethel’s grave at the burial ground at Hindley, Stocksfield.  So, on a sunny Sunday afternoon in September that is what I set off to find.   

Now I must admit, I’m not very familiar with that part of Northumberland, and without a postcode to put into the satnav I was just hoping that I would find it based on loose sense of direction with a little bit of luck thrown in.  Hindley itself is a couple of miles outside of Stocksfield, the churchyard about quarter-mile from Hindley in the Bywell St. Peter parish.  Exploring the country roads, I could see why Ethel had returned to Newcastle during World War Two; the temptation to explore the beautiful open countryside must have been strong, but perhaps not wise when petrol was rationed…I decided I better put some fuel in just in case! 

What do we know about the church and cemetery?  The balance sheet of the ‘Building Fund of St. Margaret’s Mission Room, Hindley, in Bywell St. Peters’ dated February 1891 indicates that building was underway at this time [EP 45/80].  The second edition Ordnance Survey map for the area (1895) shows St. Margaret’s Mission Chapel not far from Broomley.  Minutes taken at the parish meeting of the Broomley and Stocksfield Parish Council in October 1930 ask that additional land is purchased at Hindley Church for a burial ground [PC 7/2].  By May 1931 this piece of land which was 3,383 and one-ninth yards squared had been fenced, drained and considered to be in a ‘fit and proper state’ for burials; a petition was raised for the land to be consecrated.  The land was consecrated the following month [DN/E/4/1/27/1].  By 1979 the Chapel was in decline; “St. Margaret’s Church has not for some years been used for regular services, but only for occasional funeral services, and constitutes a potential liability for maintenance and repair”, the decision to sell the building was made.  A stained-glass memorial window was removed and relocated to Bywell St. Peter and the building subsequently sold [DN/E/8/2/2/3848]. 

The building itself is now a private residence, the burial ground is accessible by a gate from the roadside.  It looked small, neat and ordered.  It didn’t take long to find Ethel’s grave, although it is hard to read as the stone is worn, some of the words illegible, but it is undoubtedly her final resting place.  Continuing to look around, I also found the grave of Mabel Burnip, her will was instrumental in taking me to this peaceful corner of Northumberland.  Mabel died in 1984, if anyone recalls her and would like to share their memories, we would love to hear from you. 

Listening to the oral history testimonies allows your mind to drift to an earlier time, one that may seem very different but somewhat familiar at the same time.  The interview with Mr. Robson begins with Robin Gard, Archivist at the time of the recording in 1974, asking Mr. Robson to generally chat about his memories of the Felton and Swarland area (Northumberland Archives reference number T/56 and T/57).  And that he does. 

Mr. Robson tells the listener that his father and grandfather had been mole-catchers in the area, his father working on the farms between Coal Houses at Acklington and up to the Felton area.  He remembers his school days, being taught reading, writing and arithmetic using a slate and pencil to write with.  His first job, aged 14, delivering milk from a pony and trap, pouring it into jugs or basins from a large can with a tap.  He had always wanted to be a miner, he joined his first pit, Widdrington Colliery six-months later.  He worked at the Isabella Pit and Bullocks Hall bore hole before beginning to work on the roads and helping with the first tarred stone surface on the A1.  He also recalls his time in France during World War One as part of the Royal Artillery protecting the barrage balloons from attack. 

Mr. Robson also reminisces about life in an agricultural village; the majority of people worked on the farms, although he chose not to.  A horse-drawn machine would work the field, one man would stand on it reaping the corn using a hand scythe whilst another would use a rake to sweep it off the blades for the men on the ground to tie it into a sheaf.  Between the Wars new machinery was introduced which put the corn into the sheaf, all the men in the fields had to do was ‘stook it up’ or stand it on its ends.  The sheaves would be left in the fields for a couple of weeks, depending on the weather, before being taken to the farmstead.  The corn would be stacked in round or square stacks first before being taken to the ‘gin-gang’ to be threshed.  A gin-gang was a horse-engine house, usually a round building, attached to a threshing barn.  A threshing machine in the barn was connected to the gin-gang and powered by horse walking round and round inside the building (https://co-curate.ncl.ac.uk/gin-gang/).  Nearly every farm one; Mr. Robson had observed a gin-gang using eight horses, four sets of two, being used.  Horse-power was later replaced with a steam boiler.  After threshing, grain would be taken to the nearby windmill to grind into corn flour. 

Mr. Robson also recalled seeing the women working in the fields, they were known as ‘bondagers’.  Typically used in the north-east of England and southern Scotland, these were women supplied to the farm owner by the tenant to undertake work on the farm.  They would wear what Mr. Robson described as ‘rough clothing’ as well as a straw hat to protect themselves from the weather.  Through the ever-changing weather, the introduction of more modernised machinery over the decades, the harvest still gets done, the same but different.