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Under an Artificial Sun

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This guest blog is written by Debbie Ballin

I am a filmmaker and writer based at Leeds Arts University and was recently granted a Wellcome Trust Bursary Award to research materials in the Stannington Children’s Sanatorium collection at Northumberland Archives. I plan to use the research as inspiration for a new art work called, ‘Under an Artificial Sun.’ I am at the very early stages of the research so don’t, as yet, know exactly what form this will take, except that it will include creative writing and film. My interest in developing a project on childhood tuberculosis was initially inspired by an interview I found with the musician Tom Jones. In the interview he talked about how childhood TB had shaped his life.

‘Oh yeah, I would have been a coal miner, I would think, if I hadn’t had tuberculosis when I was 12.’ Tom Jones, Singer-Songwriter

I started to think about that experience from a child’s perspective and to wonder whether other similar stories of childhood tuberculosis existed. I began doing some online research and discovered the Stannington Children’s Sanatorium archive. This collection contains a wealth of material including: patients medical records and reports, radiographs, educational logbooks from the Sanatorium School from 1906 – 1970, a Matron’s Day Book from 1906 – 1933, photographs, ephemera and a collection of twenty-six oral history interviews with former patients recorded in 2013. I approached Sue Wood, Head of Collections at Northumberland Archives and she kindly supported my Wellcome Trust funding application and has helped me begin to navigate this wonderful collection along with the other archive staff.

My research focuses on the first fifty years of the sanatorium – 1906 to 1956. The period before antibiotics were widely available to treat tuberculosis. Most of the children hospitalized at Stannington at this time, were from working class backgrounds. A lot of them came from Newcastle and the nearby towns of Ashington, Blyth and Morpeth, but some from as far as Yorkshire and Wales. The children were aged from tiny infants and toddlers to young adults of seventeen and eighteen. They were often hospitalized for very long stretches of time, in some cases four or five years. The regime at Stannington was very strict, parents were only allowed to visit on one Saturday and treatments included fresh air, rest, healthy food and sunlight therapies.

I am interested in the emotional legacy of this experience and the way it shaped these children’s lives. What was it like to be isolated and separated from family and friends? What did it feel like to be confined to your bed for long periods of time? Was it boring? Or was it fun having lots of other children on the ward to play with? Did the experience make you more resilient and stronger? Or did the effects of the illness still persist in later life? Was it lonely? How did all that time to think effect your creativity and imagination?

I have started my research by reading the educational logbooks from the Sanatorium School (1906 – 1970) and the Matron’s Day Book (1906 – 1933). Through these, I am beginning to build a vivid picture of the day to day life of the sanatorium, the daily rhythms and routines, the nursing staff, teachers and doctors’ the development of the building and resources and the shifts in medical approach and educational thinking. Threaded through these records are the key historical events of the early twentieth century: the declaration of the First World War in 1914; the armistice celebrations in 1918; the Spanish flu, which led to the deaths of four of the children and the evacuation of the sanatorium to Hexham during the Second World War.

Stannington Childrens Hospital School Log Book

I have also started listening to the oral history testimonies which bear witness to deeply personal memories and experiences. Stories of the strangeness of arriving at Stannington and of homesickness and loneliness are interspersed with fond memories of individual nurses and doctors. There are tales of friendship and adventure, of nature rambles and pet rabbits and of dressing up for plays and pantomimes. There are stories of children being pushed out on the verandah in their beds no matter what the weather to take in the fresh air. Huddled up in warm clothes, red rubber blankets wrapped tightly around them, while snow piled up on the foot of their beds. Recollections of huge plates of tasty food and school in the garden sit alongside traumatic memories of pain, illness, sadness and fear.

Stannington Sanatorium

In November, I plan to interview some of the former patients again to try and understand more about what it was like to have tuberculosis as a child and to be hospitalised for a long period of time. I want to weave their stories into a wider story about the life and history of the sanatorium. Whatever form the final project takes I would like it to enrich our understanding of historical TB and childhood hospitalisation and the way it shapes us as adults.

Sir David William Smith, 1st Baronet

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The name, signature and reference ‘D.W. Smith’ frequently occurs within Dickson, Archer & Thorp paperwork from the 1820s and 1830s; particularly in relation to transactions involving the Duke of Northumberland (Hugh Percy, 3rd Duke). In a letter, discovered amongst paperwork covering the purchase of premises in Walkergate, Alnwick by the Duke, ‘D.W. Smith’ was referred to as ‘Sir’ and ‘Baronet.’  So, who was D.W. Smith?

David William Smith was the son of Colonel John Smith and his wife, Anne.  Born in Salisbury, Wiltshire, he joined his father’s regiment, 5th Regiment of Foot, as an ensign in 1779.  He married his first wife in 1788 and rejoined his father’s regiment at Detroit in 1790 (at that time, Detroit was still under British rule).  Smith served on the land board in the Hesse District (named after the Hesse region of Germany and subsequently part of Quebec) in 1791 and 1792, was Acting Deputy Surveyor General in 1792 and Surveyor General of Upper Canada in 1798.  He resigned from the army and, in 1792, was elected to the first Parliament of Upper Canada (part of British Canada established in 1791 to govern the central third of the lands in British North America) representing Suffolk and Essex, and went on in 1796 to be elected for the 3rd Riding of Lincoln.  Smith became a Member of the Executive Council of Upper Canada in 1796 and in 1800 was elected to the Legislative Assembly representing Norfolk, Oxford and Middlesex, becoming Speaker from 1796-1801.

An influential and wealthy man, he owned 20,000 acres of land in Ontario, was an established politician, businessman and known to be fair-minded.  He was even the author of the snappy-titled book: “A Short Topographical Description of His Majesty’s Province of Upper Canada in North America to which is annexed a Provincial Gazeteer”!

It would appear he was well-respected, and yet he turned his back on Canada and returned to England in 1802 where he became Land Agent for the Duke of Northumberland and was made a Baronet in 1821. Whether he left Canada due to some political disagreement or his health is unclear, however he did frequently suffer from fever and correspondence within the Dickson, Archer & Thorp collection does often refer to his health. With correspondents wishing him better and, in one letter, describing himself as being “too weak” to become embroiled in lengthy arguments.  These documents were dated between 1827-8, although Smith did not die until 1837.

We would like to thank the volunteer who has kindly cataloged and researched D. W Smith’s correspondence, their blog is a fascinating insight into an engaging character.

James Forster’s Crime

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In the winter of 1855 Messrs. Smith and Appleford were executing a series of contracted works on Alnwick Castle. During the works large quantities of lead went missing and James Forster, a mason working for Messrs. Smith and Appleford, was accused of the crime. He was incriminated by a great quantity of lead found buried in his garden “under suspicious circumstances” by a policeman named P.C Marshall. Following a further search James was also charged with stealing a wedge and piece of zine from his masters.

Alnwick Castle, 1866

James was 54 years old at the time of the theft. He had a wife, Marjory, and two children, Jane aged 19 and William aged 9. James was prosecuted for the theft by Hon. A Liddell and defended by Mr Blackwell. The contractor’s foreman and blacksmith were called to identify the wedge and piece of zine recovered from James’ person, but neither could positively confirm whether these were the missing articles. On this count James was found not guilty. He was then tried for “stealing three stones and a half weight of lead from the roof of Alnwick Castle, the property of his Grace the Duke of Northumberland.” According to newspaper reports “the lead in question was lying on the roof of the Castle, tied up in bundles, and the prisoner was observed by the foreman of the masons to go to one of the bundles and cut off a piece of lead, which he placed in his left jacket pocket.” The foreman immediately reported this to the contractors’ overseer and James’ premises were searched by PC. Marshall that same day. James was sentenced to six months hard labour for this crime.

Alnwick Castle

In 1861, six years after the theft, James and Marjory were residing in Clayport Street with their unmarried daughter Jane (now a dress maker) and Marjory’s mother Jane Spours (aged 80). Jane the elder was listed on the 1861 census as being an Innkeeper from Ellingham. She was also familiar with the law, having been fined in 1857 for keeping her public house open and “selling exciseable liquors during prohibited hours on Sundays.”

Alnwick, 1827

The Forsters had been living in in Clayport Street since at least 1841, where they are listed in the census alongside their four young children:

Martha, then aged 12.

George, then aged 10.

John, then aged 8.

Jane, then aged 6.

Also living in the street in 1841, although not in the same property, was the 60 year old Jane Spours.

Another Forster child, who died in 1841 and most likely before the census, was Robert Spours Forster. He was less than a year old when he became the first Forster to be placed within their family burial plot in Alnwick. In 1849 George Forster, James’ eldest son, also died and was buried in the plot. He was followed in the same year by a third child, Eleanor Forster, who was seven years old. Martha, the Forster’s eldest daughter, became the fourth child to go to the grave young, dying in 1851 aged twenty-two. She was followed by her paternal grandmother, Ann Forster, aged eighty. Finally, in 1863, Jane Spours, the ever-present matriarch, was buried in the plot aged eighty-four.

Having such a large family to feed, and losing so many children in quick succession, may have driven James’ to extreme lengths – including stealing from his own employer. James and Margery’s death dates are not clear, but they were interred in the family plot with their children and mothers.

 

This blog was inspired by a document found within the Dickson, Archer and Thorp papers outlining the crimes of James Forster. We would like to thank the volunteers who have cataloged and researched this piece.

 

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