Northumberland At War

Amongst the many collections held by Northumberland Archives are some family papers of the Taylor Family of Tynemouth. Within this uncatalogued collection we have located a large folio book published by the offices of “Engineering” of Bedford Street, Stand, London in 1907 on the Cunard Atlantic Liner “Mauretania” which was constructed by Messrs Swan, Hunter & Wigham Richardson Limited of Wallsend on Tyne (ref ZTA 4/1).

The Wallsend shipyard where the Mauretania was built dates back to 1872. Mr C.S. Swan was the principle partner, but soon after his death in 1878 Mr G. B. Hunter became head of the firm. The firm became a limited liability in 1895 and in 1903 amalgamated with Messrs Wigham Richardson and Co. The combined companies then had a river frontage of some 4000ft and covered an area of 78 acres. The yard was located about three miles east of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank of the River Tyne at a point where there is a bend so that little difficulty is involved in launching large vessels.

 

When she was built in 1906 the Mauretania was the world’s largest ship. This record was held until The Olympic was built in 1911. The Mauretania consisted of nine decks, seven of which were above the load water-line. During construction they used a product known as Corticine [A material for carpeting or floor covering, made of ground cork and India rubber] instead of wood to save on weight for the deck covering.

Her capacity was 2165 passengers in total consisting of the following 563 First Class, 464 Second Class, 1138 Third Class and 802 crew.

This book comprehensively records dimensions and furniture in all the rooms for first, second and third class passengers. We have extracted some information from the book to provide a flavour of what she must have been like.

“The boat deck extends over the greater part of the centre of the ship and contains some of the finest en -suite rooms. At the forward end you could find the First Class Library, Grand Entrance Hall, First Class Lounge, Music Room and First Class Smoking Room.

The Library extends across the deck house and is 33ft long by 56ft. The Lounge is 80ft long and 56ft wide. The Veranda Café is the same as the Lusitania’s and is sure to prove a popular resort.

 

The Regal Suites comprise a drawing room, dining room, two bedrooms, bathroom and private corridor. They are all decorated in the Adams style. The carpets, throughout the suite are green. The rooms are supplied with statuary marble chimney pieces and electric radiators. Both bedrooms are Georgian in character with carved mouldings and the wall panels are covered in silk. They are finished in white with mahogany furniture

The Nursery was decorated by Messrs J. Robson & Sons of Newcastle it is in mahogany, enamelled white and the panels have a series of quaint paintings of the well-known nursery rhyme ‘Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.’ The dining tables and chairs are of a suitable height for little passengers. There is accommodation for four stewardesses and two matrons.”

Her official trails extended over four days terminating on 7th November 1906. There for 4 trails where he vessel steamed at an average speed of 26.04 knots. The trails took place sailing to and from Corswall Point Light, Wigtownshire, Scotland to Longship Lighthouse, Cornwall a distance of 304 nautical miles each way. This course was used because the length could be travelled in about 12 hours so that tidal influences on the north and south runs would balance each other. Her first run south was affected by adverse weather. Over four trails the vessel steamed at an average speed of 26.04 knots.

Her first trans-Atlantic voyage took place on 16th November 1907 when she departed Liverpool for New York, under the command of Captain John Pritchard. She continued her Atlantic voyages until the outbreak of the First World War when she was requisitioned by the British Government to become an armed merchant cruiser, but due to her size and excessive fuel consumption she was deemed unsuitable and reverted back to her Atlantic trips, but due to lack of passengers she was laid up until May 1915.

After the sinking of the Lusitania she was used by the British Government as a troopship for the transportation of troops during the Gallipoli campaign. As a troopship she received what was known as dazzle camouflage, this was a form of abstract colouring applied to confuse the enemy. Later she became a hospital ship and was repainted white with large red crosses. Later in the war she was requisitioned by the Canadian Government and used to transport Canadian troops from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Liverpool and once America entered the war in 1917 used to transport American troops to the UK.

She returned to her civilian life after the First World War in 1919, until she was withdrawn from service in 1934, being ‘deemed surplus to requirements.’

This post was prepared by Paul Ternent, Northumberland At War Volunteer Manager.

In the spring of 2013, I came across a dusty old manuscript at my mother’s house in Somerset. It turned out to be my grandfather’s memoir, written about his experiences during the Great War. Reading it was quite a revelation. Not only was it dramatic and well written, but also a fascinating historical document, providing a thorough and vivid description of life in a WWI German PoW camp – an aspect of history that has, I have subsequently discovered, been little explored by historians. I decided to try to have it published, hoping that it might appear in print while the author’s daughter, my now 85-year-old mother, was still around to read it. I am pleased to say that the memoir – ‘Escaping from the Kaiser’ by Herbert Tustin – has just been published by Pen & Sword Books, much to the delight of my mother.

My grandfather’s memoir begins with him in Northern France in April 1915, en route to the Second Battle of Ypres with his regiment, the 8th Durham Light Infantry. He describes how the initial mood of ‘glorious adventure’ gave way to much darker emotions as they neared the battle zone and the grim realities of war become ever more apparent. The 8th Durhams were sent to the most critical section of the allied line, the extreme head of the Ypres Salient. Outgunned and outnumbered, their position was hopeless. The regiment was decimated by the German bombardment, and those that survived were forced into a desperate retreat, during which my grandfather was captured, along with a great many of his comrades.

Following capture, my grandfather and his fellow captives endured an arduous three-day rail journey in cattle trucks to Rennbahn PoW camp, just outside the German city of Münster. Here he was to spend 16 months, and a large portion of his memoir is devoted to describing this experience in great detail: the hunger, hardships and brutalities; the prison work; the character of the various nationalities; the activities and recreations; and the friendships and humour.

Conditions at Rennbahn were tough, but my grandfather made the best of the situation, participating in many of the prisoner-organised activities, including accompanying at the piano for theatrical productions, playing the organ during church services and helping to edit the PoW church magazine. Nevertheless, thoughts of escape ran constantly in his mind. According to a recently acquired recording of an interview with his friend and 8^th Durham comrade, Private William Stephenson (1894–1995), my grandfather decided to escape because he got word that a ‘young lieutenant’ was paying too much attention to his sweetheart Sybil, which troubled him greatly and made him determined to return to England as soon as possible. He had met Sybil, who was to become his wife, while they were both trainee teachers at the College of St Hild and St Bede in Durham, and their relationship was kept alive during the war through a frequent exchange of letters.

Whatever mix of emotions inspired my grandfather, they must certainly have been very strong, as attempting to escape was an incredibly risky venture: Rennbahn was surrounded by a triple girdle of barbed wire, with the middle wire carrying a lethal electric charge. Armed guards were posted at every entrance, and watch-dogs patrolled the perimeter fence, which was illuminated by powerful arc lamps. Any would-be escapee who succeeded in breaking free from the camp still needed to cross 50 miles of enemy territory before reaching the safety of neutral Holland. In addition to these formidable difficulties, my grandfather had the sobering knowledge that all previous British escape attempts had failed, and that he would be severely punished if caught. Finally, as if he needed reminding of the dangers, within less than a month of making his own bid for freedom, a French prisoner was shot and killed in the act of attempting to escape.

My grandfather’s first effort to escape was by tunnelling out of the camp. He and an 8th Durham comrade, Private Thomas B. Dickinson (called ‘Hicky’ in my grandfather’s memoir), also an alumnus of Bede College, took over a tunnel that had been abandoned by other prisoners. They set to their digging work with great enthusiasm, but the increasing moisture and stench, which they suspected was coming from the camp sewers, forced them also to abandon the tunnel.

Not to be defeated, in the summer of 1916, my grandfather conspired with Canadian PoW Gerrie Burk on an alternative plan: this involved cutting the wire beneath one of the entrance gates, which were not electrified but kept under constant armed guard. The idea was to choose a stormy night, wait for the sentry to disappear into the shelter of his box, less than four yards from the gate, creep up, cut the wires and crawl beneath the gate to freedom. It is difficult to see how this audacious plan could have succeeded, but the fact that they were resolved to carry it out says a lot about their determination and courage.

Fortunately, they came up with a better plan: on the pretext of visiting some sick friends, they inveigled their way into the camp hospital, which was just outside the main camp and away from the electric wire. Here they were helped by their PoW friends, one being Private Alfred J. Cleeton (of the 7th Canadians), who by good luck had befriended the watch-dog and was thus able to keep it at bay. Seizing their moment and with the sentries only yards away, the intrepid duo made their dash up and over the ten-foot barbed wire, lacerating their hands horribly in the process, before making good their escape.

For the next nine days they headed for Holland, travelling by night and hiding during daylight hours. Increasingly weak and hungry, they supplemented their small food supply with whatever they could find – wild berries, vegetables foraged from fields and apples stolen from orchards. Each day of their nerve-wracking journey brought new dangers: roving hunters, barking dogs, road blocks, treacherous bogs, children at play and even run-away bulls – all of which threatened to expose their presence and bring their dreams of freedom to an abrupt and inglorious end. Somehow, they managed to avoid recapture, despite the closest of calls. Exhausted almost beyond their ability to continue and only yards from neutral territory, they were met by a fusillade of shots fired at them by German frontier guards. Luckily, it being night-time, they managed to evade the guards and, finding sanctuary in a ditch, crawled slowly forwards, inching past a German sentry before finally crossing the Dutch border to safety and freedom.

On arriving in Holland, they were relieved to meet a friendly group of soldiers, who accompanied them to the nearby town of Enschede. The Dutch authorities, having verified their story, treated them with the utmost kindness and sent them under escort to Rotterdam, where the British Consul arranged their passage on the first boat leaving for England. Their voyage was a perilous one, for the previous four ships to leave Rotterdam had been torpedoed by German U-boats. Fortunately, their vessel, the SS Grenadier, was able to navigate its way across the mine-strewn, submarine-infested North Sea, to arrive safely in Newcastle on Tyne on 18 September.

My grandfather’s amazing story of war, imprisonment, survival and escape, enhanced by original photographs, concludes with an epilogue by my grandmother. Writing some 20 years after her husband’s death, she recalls his welcome home, the joyful reunion and his proposal of marriage.

 

Sadly, I never knew my grandfather, whose life was cut short when he died of cancer in 1939. I am grateful, however, that he left such a dramatic and wonderfully written wartime memoir. Having it published has been something of a personal tribute, and I am proud to be related to a man who showed such courage under so much adversity. I am also delighted that that his story – ‘Escaping from the Kaiser’ by Herbert Tustin – is now available to be read and enjoyed by everyone.

We would like to express our sincere appreciation to Richard Corr [grandson of Herbert Tustin] in supplying this article for the Northumberland At War Project.

Amongst the many collections held by Northumberland Archives are the papers of the Netherton Reformatory. The Reformatory was situated north east of the village of Stannington, just off the A1, 10 miles north of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and was built in 1853, as a reformatory for ‘delinquent’ boys. Within this collection you will find many records relating to the boys that spent time in the Reformatory. These include admission and discharge registers and information about the conduct of the boys during the time they spent there.
Northumberland Archives recently worked with Voices Making Choices [VMC], which is Northumberland’s Children in Care Council. They currently look after 325 children from birth up to 16 years old as well as approximately 150 young people aged between16 and 24, who are preparing to leave the care system.
Recently VMC created an exhibition to commemorate the great history of Netherton Park Children’s Homes, from its opening in 1853 up until its planned closure in 2014. VMC wanted to look back and see how looked after children in the early 1900’s lived and were cared for so they could compare this to their lives as a looked after child today.
To commemorate the 100 year anniversary of the First World War the group decided to look closer into researching Netherton Park’s history around 1914 and during the research the group found that 570 young people from Netherton volunteered to defend our country in the First World War.
The young people involved have helped research the content at the Northumberland Archives at Woodhorn and have worked with a photographer to create an exhibition and a photography book.
Using our records we are able to build up a picture about the life of one of the boys – David Eckstein.
David Eckstein was born in London around 1896 and was admitted to the Reformatory on 10th July 1909. He was 5ft tall with a small face and fresh complexion, dark hair and dark brown eyes, weighing 86lbs. He also had a tattoo on his forearm. [Ref NRO 820/B9]. He was convicted in London on 9th July 1909 for feloniously stealing a pair of shoes and a pair of opera glasses worth 5 shillings and 6 pence. For this he was sentenced to stay at the Reformatory until he was 19 years old.

David was a Jewish boy from one of the poorest parts of London. How did he end up so far from home? A letter held by London Metropolitan Archives, dated 7th July 1882 confirms that ‘Netherton Reformatory’ is the only school in England, which receives Jewish boys and educates them apart from Christian Worship.’ [Ref LMA/MJ/SP/1882/07/016].
A reformatory was an institution aimed at re-educating boys who had committed a criminal offence. Their parents were expected to make a contribution to the cost of their keep. These payments could have been as much as 5 shillings a week – equivalent to around £15 today. The age of entry and discharge changed over the years, but by 1893 the minimum age on entry was 12 whilst the age on release had gone from 21 to 19. Following the Children & Young Person’s Act of 1932, Reformatories and Industrial schools were amalgamated to form what was known as an “Approved School.”
The Headmaster at Netherton lived in the large Victorian house in the centre of the school. The staff lived in houses adjacent to the large dormitory building where the boys slept. The boy’s life’s involved working on the farms and workshops, where they were taught various skills. Many of the local farmers purchased carts, implements and gates from the Reformatory as well as employing the boys as casual labour. Netherton also had its own chapel and playing fields.
What must David had thought about this place. He was from Whitechapel and had been sent to the wild open countryside of Northumberland. This must have been a cultural shock to him. Fresh air and strange accents?
The admission register provides us with a wealth of interesting information about his family with additional information gleaned from viewing the census records. By 1909 his father had dead and his mother Eva Eckstein was working as a tailoress. David had a brother called Jack who was 8 years old and the family were living at 22 Collingwood Street, Bethnal Green. Further family members are listed as Uncle W. Solomon & Auntie Kitty Solomon of 44 Rectory Square, Stepney.
Whilst at the Reformatory David was involved in a number of incidents which resulted in the deduction of various merit points as revealed by entries in the Reformatory Conduct Book [ref NRO 820/C3]. Some of the offences listed were – deceitful conduct, inattention to prayers; bad/neglecting work, not brushing his hair; pinching turnips & talking whilst cleaning teeth to name but a few!
In 1901, David aged 7 was living with his grandparents at 22 Collingwood Street, Bethnal Green. His grandfather, David Eckstein was a 76 year old tailor who had been born in Austria. His grandmother was called Simeh aged 68. The couple had a son called Philip living with them. Philip was aged 34, a general dealer, born in Whitechapel. In the 1871 the family were living at 8 Paradise Place, Christ Church, Whitechapel. The family consisted of David born in Austria, Simeh his wife, born in Poland and their children – Isaac 17; Nathan 11; Sarah 9; Eve 7; Phillip 3 & Leah 1. By 1881 the family were living at 18 Cobbs Court, Spitalfields. Had they moved to London to escape persecution in Europe?
Following David’s discharge in November 1912 [ref NRO 820/B25] he was placed out to Mr Thompson at New Town, Rothbury, Northumberland. In May 1913, he had been hired by Mr Young, a dairy farmer, of Acklington, Northumberland, and by August 1913 David was employed as a fireman by the Ashington Coal Company and was residing at 63 Pont Street, Hirst, Ashington in the house of Mrs Hughes. It would seem at some stage he left the colliery and was advised by the Superintendent to return to work but then started work as an apprentice Cabinet Maker for a Simon Sadopsky.

By the end of August 1914 he had volunteered and joined the Army. We know this as the school received a letter from his mother, Eva, to say that he had joined the 2nd Devonshire Regiment and was based in Plymouth. Private No. 6943 ‘D’ Company of British Expeditionary Force.

A further letter was received by the school from his mother who wrote again on 12th January 1915 to advise the school that David had been ‘Killed in Action’ on 17th December 1914 at Wulverghim, France. Eva wrote again on 6th March sending the school a photograph of David. Unfortunately, this has not survived. Wouldn’t it be great if one day a picture of David is found and we can put a face to this interesting story?
David is commemorated on the Menin Gate, Ypres, Belgium, indicating that in a note on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website – Eckstein Pte. David 3/6943 of 1st Battalion Devonshire Regiment was ‘Killed in Action’ 17th Dec. 1914 age 21. The son of Mrs Eva Moss (formerly Eckstein) of 13 Providence Place, Aldgate, London.
There are no service or pension papers on Ancestry, but we did find his Medal Index Card which confirms the information we know above. He only arrived in France on 3rd December 1914 and was killed 14 days later. He was awarded the War & Victory medals as well as the 1915 Star.
We were also able to find an article in the Morpeth Herald Newspaper relating to David in the edition of Friday 26th September 1913 –
Stolen potatoes – David Eckstein, Fireman of Pont Street & Fred Bell, Ash-Wheeler of Poplar Street were charged with having stolen potatoes to the value of 6d each the property of Thomas Stamp of Dene House Farm, Ellington on 9th Sept.
P.C. Jones said he was at Ellington Colliery when he saw both of them in a potato field and watched them for some time. They came over the railings and he stopped them. They had a hatful of potatoes each. He asked them what they were going to do with them and they replied ‘We are going to roast them for our supper’
They were fined 5/-each.
We know so much background information about the boys who attended the Reformatory; their lives before and during their stay, but we do not have any photographs in the collection, which are named. Wouldn’t it be great if some day we found photographs of the boys named on the Roll Of Honour so we can put a face to a name!
By Paul Ternent Volunteer Manager for Northumberland At War.