Remembering Mrs Stanier on Mother’s Day

The re-imagined story …

Grace Stanier (2)

I have such wonderful memories of childhood Christmas’s. I suppose most children would say the same.

With five of us in the family, we didn’t have much, not like children today. We would hang our stockings on the bedposts on Christmas Eve and try to keep awake all night to wait for Father Christmas to come, but of course we never saw him. Does any child?

And on Christmas morning we took our bulging stockings beneath the bedcovers to keep warm as we opened them. There was always a tangerine and some walnuts and some humbugs and a little toy. I remember the year my brother Bert received a real guard’s whistle and blew it until I thought my ear drums would burst. Mother told him he wasn’t to blow it again until Boxing Day.

As soon as we could read, we received a book. Sometimes a character improving story like The White Feather but one year Fred received a copy of Treasure Island and I got a copy of Little Women!

And as members of the Congregational Chapel Sunday School we always received a little gift from Mrs Stanier. The Stanier family was very involved with the Chapel. We were all a bit frightened of Mr Stanier. He was a bigwig in the factory and you had to mind your ps and qs around him. But we were all very fond of Mrs Stanier. We used to think she was very old but of course she wasn’t. As a child you can never imagine older people as they might have been when young; vibrant and vital with loves and lives of their own. You never take account of the sorrow and the losses they may have suffered. I suppose we didn’t consider her much at all.

It was only after her funeral that mother told me she had been buried with her little daughter Grace who died when she was seven years old. Mrs Stanier had also lost two little boys, Francis John who was three years old when he died and Alfred, who was just a baby. She probably thought of those children when she wrapped up our gifts every Christmas.

The facts …

Grace Ball was born in Southport, Lancashire in 1847, the daughter of Robert Ball, a shopkeeper and farmer and his wife Ann. Grace grew up at North Moels and worked as a teacher in a small private school there.

Grace married William Henry Stanier in the Ormskirk registration district during the September quarter of 1875. By 1881 they were living at Church Place, Swindon with their three children William, Annie and Charles. The couple went on to have five more children but sadly three of these died in childhood. The couple’s last home together was at Oakfield, Bath Road.

The funeral of the late Mrs Stanier, wife of Ald. W.H. Stanier, of “Oakfield,” Bath Road, Swindon, took place on Tuesday afternoon, and evidence of keen regret and deep sympathy was everywhere apparent.

At 2.30 pm an impressive service was commenced at the Sanford Street Congregational Church, of which the deceased lady had been a prominent member. As the procession entered the building, “O Rest in the Lord” was played on the organ. The service was conducted by the Rev J. Stroud Williams (Pastor), and the Rev T. Garbutt Vinson (Pastor of the Victoria Street Congregational Church). The hymns, “Light after darkness,” and “When the day of toil is past” were sung during the service, and the Dead March in “Saul” was played as the procession slowly filed out of the building.

During the service the Rev Stroud Williams said: We little thought a few days ago when we met in this Church on a similar occasion that we should meet here to-day. Our sister, greatly beloved, has been called to her rest, after a long and painful illness. Her departure leaves a keen sense of loss and bereavement behind. We cannot estimate the loss. Hers was a bright, sunny soul. In early years she came to know Christ as her Saviour, and consecrated herself and her life to His service. In very many ways she sought to help forward His work. She was full of cheerfulness and strong hope, and that cheerfulness and hope bore her through all the years of weakness and of pain, and when the call came it did not find her unprepared. She knew in whom she believed. She knew she was going to Christ. “Blessed are they that die in the Lord.” Why should we be sorry? Our sorrow is not sin. It is manly, it is Divine. For Jesus Himself wept at the graveside. We sorrow, but not as those who have no hope of a reunion. We see only the going down into the valley, and not the climbing up the hill of God and the entrance into life. Our sister has seen the face of Christ. She knows what she longed to know. We are thankful for the memory that she has left behind, and we pray for the grace that we may follow as she followed Christ.

At the graveside the committal sentences were said by the Rev. J.S. Williams.

The inscription on the coffin was as follows: “Grace Stanier, died 10^th November, 1905, aged 58 years.”

The chief mourners were Mr W.H. Stanier (husband), Messrs. W., C., and G. Stanier (sons) Misses Stanier (daughters), Mrs C. Stanier, Mr and Mrs H.A. Stanier, Miss B. Stanier, Mr T.W. Stanier (Newcastle), Mr and Mrs H. Hill, Miss Hill, Miss Morse, and Mr E. C. Riley.

Others following were: …

The following were present representing the GWR Loco and Carriage Department Staffs: Messrs. J. Lockyer, J.W. Rose, W.H. Adams, C. Godsell, W.J. Burleigh, and John Clark. The Stores Department was represented by Messrs W. Jones, J. Wood, E.H. Page. A.H. Dunn, J. Dowling, V.R. Daines, J.H. Barker, A.H. Jervis, W. Davies, W.S. Clark, C.T. Smith, W.J. Smith, A. Tyler, H. Brown, F.J. Etherington, C.A. Plaister, H.J. Edmonds, R. Brock, J. Hart, D. Sheward, A.J. Rolls, F.S. Westlake, E.A. Blackman, J.W. Smith, S.F. Adams, C.E. Barker, J.E. Lockyer, and H.L. Smith.

Councillor George Brooks was unable to be present in consequence of his having to attend to some business in London that day, in the place of Mr Stanier.

Many members of the Sanford Street Congregational Church were also present.

The funeral arrangements were carried out by Messrs Chandler Bros of Wood Street, under the personal direction of Mr J.H. Chandler.

Extracts published from The Swindon Advertiser, Friday, November 17, 1905

Mrs Stanier was buried in plot A2508/9 in a double plot where she lies with her young daughter Grace who died in October 1890 aged 7 years. On the other side of the footpath lie her two young sons, Francis John and Alfred, buried in plot A188.

John Henry Puzey – the hidden cost of war

John Henry Puzey was born on August 10, 1895 at Upper Stratton, the youngest of four sons. By the time of the 1911 census his parents John and Sarah with younger sons Alfred Robert and John Henry were living at 165 Redcliffe Street, Rodbourne. Three elder sons had followed their father into the GWR Works but John Henry had taken a different career path and at 15 was an apprenticed house decorator. A bit of a lad was John, so say those who remembered him.

John Henry Puzey enlisted at Swindon on October 7, 1915 with the Wilts (Fortress) R.E. (T) and was later transferred to the 3/1 Wessex Field Coy. R.E. serving in Salonika. On August 1, 1919 John Henry Puzey was examined at Tiflis prior to being demobilised. He signed the following statement: I do not claim to be suffering from a disability due to my military service. His signature reveals a shaky hand. On September 14, 1919 he was discharged from Fovant in Wiltshire, No. I Dispersal Unit. His Medical Category was described as A1. But John was clearly not in good mental health.

“His illness was not diagnosed as shell shock but merely a worsening of his mental state before WWI,” says his great niece, Mary. He was clearly suffering from what would now be called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Whatever the terminology, whatever name you want to give it, John’s mind was destroyed by war.

John Henry Puzey was admitted to Roundway Hospital, the former Wiltshire County Lunatic Asylum, in Devizes, Wiltshire. His family visited him regularly, his brother Alfred taking over the responsibility after their mother’s death. Alfred would bring his little granddaughter Mary to see his brother. Mary recalls how when he was in good health he shopped in Devizes for the staff and went out with the staff football and cricket teams.

“During visits if he was well, we saw him in the canteen/visitors room. I remember one Christmas one of the inmates had painted an alpine scene around the walls. It was wonderful. In summer months we would walk around the grounds, which he helped to maintain. He always took us to the garden tool store room under the main hospital. He called this his dugout. To him it was a safe area the same as his dugout in Salonika,” said Mary.

John Henry Puzey died at Roundway Hospital on July 25, 1962. He was 66 years old. He left administration of his will to the brother who had visited him in hospital for all those years, retired boilermaker Alfred Robert Puzey. John Henry was buried in Radnor Street Cemetery on July 31, 1962. He shares plot D636 with his parents, John who died in 1928 and Sarah Ann who died in 1947.

Diana Dors and the Fluck family

Witty, outrageous Diana Dors provided the media with a whole raft of risqué quotes. Born in Swindon in 1931 she went on to become our very own blonde bombshell, Britain’s answer to Marilyn Monroe. She was bold and brassy and lacked the vulnerability of Marilyn Monroe and sadly, today her sleazy lifestyle is better remembered than her considerable acting ability. But it could be said that Diana like Marilyn was a product of her success and the men who used and exploited her during a lucrative career in the 50s and 60s.

24th October 1953: Film star Diana Dors (1931 – 1984)

She seldom returned to Swindon having left the town behind and following the death of her parents there remains little trace of Diana. Or does there?

Diana’s mother, Winifred Maud Mary was born in Chewton Mendip, Somerset in 1890, the daughter of Mercy Georgina and Elijah Payne. Her first husband, William George Padget, was killed in action in 1916 during the First World War. In 1918 she married for a second time. Albert Edward Sidney Fluck was a railway clerk in the GWR Works. Their only child, Diana Mary Fluck, was born in a nursing home in Kent Road and grew up in a house in Marlborough Road. Her ambition to act, sing and dance became apparent at a very early age and was encouraged by her mother. Her precocious beauty and ambition saw her enrolled at the Academy of Music and Dramatic Art at just 14 years old. Diana would later say:

“They asked me to change my name. I suppose they were afraid that if ‘Diana Fluck’ was in lights and one of the lights blew …” A classic Diana quip. The surname Diana chose was her maternal grandmother’s maiden name, Dors.

Diana’s father Albert Edward Stanley Fluck was born on October 10, 1893 in Swindon and baptised on November 12 at St. Mark’s Church, Kingsholm, Gloucester, the church in which his parents had married in 1892. His father Albert Edward Fluck was a railway clerk and had moved to Swindon in around 1889 and can be found lodging with the Jones family at 40 Oriel Street at the time of the 1891 census.

November 1968: Diana Dors (1931-1984) with her husband Alan Lake in a car after their wedding. (Photo by Keystone/Getty Images)

By 1901 the Fluck family were living at 11 Poulton Street, Gorse Hill – Albert E. Fluck 35 a clerk at the GWR Works, Ada 34 and Albert E.S. aged 7. Lodging with the family was George J. Sarwell 37, a Church of England clergyman.

Albert Edward Fluck died on January 24, 1907 aged 40 years. His funeral took place on January 30 and he is buried in Radnor Street Cemetery in plot C1800.

The area in which grave plot C1800 is located

Ada went on to marry widower Albert Ausden a scaffolder employed in the GWR Works. At the time of the 1911 census the family were living at 19 Cambria Place with Albert’s three children Rupert, Florrence and George and her two children Albert, then aged 17, and Gweneva Fluck 7.

Ada died in 1948 aged 81 years and is buried with Albert Fluck in plot C1800. Their daughter Gweneva died in 1966 and is also buried with them.

There does not appear to be a headstone on the Fluck family grave. Probably back in 1907 there was not the money to pay for one. I suspected their granddaughter Diana Dors probably had something big and showy, but surprisingly she hasn’t. Diana died in 1984 aged 52. She was buried in Sunningdale Catholic Cemetery. Her third husband Alan Lake took his own life just five months later. He is buried alongside her and the two have identical headstones.

International Women’s Day

I couldn’t let International Women’s Day pass without celebrating the life and times of two extraordinary Swindon women – Edith New and Mary Slade – even though, unfortunately, neither of them are buried in Radnor Street Cemetery.

Edith Bessie New was born in North Street, Swindon on March 17, 1877, the youngest surviving child of Frederick New, a railway clerk, and his wife Isabella, a music teacher.

Isabella raised her three children alone following the death of her husband in an accident while he walked along the railway line. Perhaps this example set by her independent mother and the struggles she encountered led Edith to spend her life campaigning for women’s rights.

Edith trained as a teacher at Queenstown School, Swindon before moving to London. Here she joined the Women’s Social and Political Union, becoming one of that organisations earliest militant members.

Following her retirement from teaching Edith moved to Polperro, Cornwall where she lived with her sister Nell. It was here that she died on January 2, 1951. She is buried with Nell in the cemetery there.

For more about Edith’s life and work you might like to read on…

Mary Elizabeth Slade was born in Bradford on Avon on July 12, 1872 one of two children born to cloth weavers Frank and Susan Slade.

By 1901 she had moved to Swindon and a teaching position at King William Street School, boarding with builder’s foreman Edwin Colborne and his family at 64 Goddard Avenue. At the time of the 1911 census she was living at 63 Avenue Road with her widowed mother Susan.

At the outbreak of World War I Mary headed a team of volunteers who collected and dispatched comforts to members of the Wiltshire Regiment serving overseas. However, the dire plight of those soldiers taken prisoner of war soon came to the attention of Mary and her team and they directed their efforts to sending parcels to these men.

For more about Mary’s work you might like to read on… (please note that this article was originally written in 2014).

Mary continued to live in Swindon until her death on January 31, 1960. She died suddenly at her home in Avenue Road. She is buried in Christ Church churchyard, Swindon.

Mary Gibbs – A Swindon Octogenarian

The re-imagined story …

Do you believe that a house can retain memories? Have you ever visited a house and felt it had an atmosphere?

“Can’t you feel it?”

“All I can feel is damp. I bet this place hasn’t got a damp course.”

The row of stone-built cottages had once overlooked the canal before it was filled in, but it wasn’t damp that I was feeling.

“This could be a happy home,” I suddenly blurted out, but that wasn’t the plan. We were looking for a cheap property to renovate and sell on. “I could happily live here.”

“Really! Have you seen the bathroom?”

I wondered who had once lived here. Not recently, we knew who the vendors were, I meant in the past. Who had lived here when it was a brand-new property? How many children had squeezed into the bedroom upstairs, one of only two in the beginning? I bet there was a clothes line running the length of that long garden, full of washing every Monday; pinafore dresses and shirts, lots of shirts and overalls. I wondered how many meals had been eaten around the kitchen table? How many prayers had been said in this house?

I wasn’t quite sure what I was feeling – well, I did but if I blurted it out Darren would think I had lost the plot. Ha, I know he sometimes had his doubts about me anyway.

This had been a busy house, but there was something else about the place, a sense of serenity. This was a house of God, a house where God had resided. I could just imagine telling Darren that.

“Let’s get back to the estate agent. See if there’s any movement on the price. Personally, I think they’re asking too much for it. And I bet it hasn’t got a damp course.”

The facts …

Death of Mrs Gibbs

Interesting Reminiscences

Rode on a Stage Coach and Electric Trams

There was laid to rest in Swindon Cemetery on Thursday in last week the mortal remains of Mrs Mary Gibbs, late of 120 Broad Street, and widow of the late Mr William Gibbs, who resided for many years at 46, Cambria Place, Swindon. The deceased lady, who had attained to the great age of 88 years, and retained all her faculties to the end, was an interesting personality. She was probably the oldest member of the Baptist community in Swindon, and was in the service of the Rev. Richard Breeze, before he came to Swindon and opened a Baptist Church here at the corner of Fleet Street and Bridge Street. Her late husband, who died 17 years ago, was one of the pioneers of the Ancient Order of Foresters in Swindon, and assisted at the opening of Court “Briton’s Pride,” A.O.F., and also the “Vale of White Horse” Court, Shrivenham. He was himself initiated a member of the Order at Abingdon, when he was residing at Sutton Courtenay, and remained a Forester until his death, having been a member for over fifty years.

The deceased lady was born at Lechlade, and her earliest recollections of Swindon was riding through this part of the country on a stage coach. What is now known as New Swindon then comprised only green fields. She lived to see the whole of the land built on, the electricity works opened in the neighbourhood where she resided, and more than once rode on the electric trams, notwithstanding her great age.

Her husband worked on the GWR during the construction of the line between Didcot and Swindon. He was connected with the Baptist Church, and took a leading part in the opening of the Rehoboth Baptist Chapel at the top of Rolleston Street, Swindon.

At the funeral of the deceased lady the burial service was conducted by Mr. S. Chappell, of the Rehoboth Baptist Church. The mourners included deceased’s five sons, Charles, William, Harry, George and John Gibbs, a grand-daughter, two grand-sons, and other relatives and friends.

There were many beautiful wreaths and other floral tributes placed on the grave.

The Swindon Advertiser, Friday, July 16, 1909.

Mary Gibbs 88 years 120 Broad Street burial 8^th July 1909 plot number B2073

1871 census

Cambria Place

William Gibbs Head of household 47 Platelayer born Swindon

Mary Gibbs wife 49 born Berks Coleshill

Charles H. Gibbs son 21 Boiler Smith born Berks. Sutton

William J. Gibbs son 19 Boiler Smith born Stratton

Henry H. Gibbs son 17 Moulder born Stratton

Mary J. Gibbs daughter 15 Domestic Servant born Stratton

Edward J. Gibbs son 12 Scholar born Stratton

George Gibbs son 9 Scholar born Stratton

John Gibbs son 6 Scholar born Stratton

Celia Morkot – the first woman employed in the Works

The re-imagined story …

I started in the Works in the polishing department in 1937 and stayed for two years. I hated every day I was there.

French polishing sounds as if it might be a delicate, artistic occupation. I suppose there was an element of artistry about, it but it certainly wasn’t delicate. French polishing involved stripping back to the basic wood, making good any damage and then building up the polish again, brushing and sanding, brushing and sanding. A door could take you five days, on and off. We worked on anything made of wood, everything from panels and partitions to toilet seats.

12A Shop was in the Carriage Works along London Street and it was cold and filthy. We were quite separate from the men in the railway factory and had our own facilities. That’s a laugh, one toilet with two washbasins and some disinfectant soap useless at getting all the muck off our hands. Methylated spirits worked much better but it was hard on your hands and left them red and raw.

The mess room was under the workshop but no one wanted to spend their lunchtime there. When the weather was good me and Ivy used to walk to the GWR Park and eat our sandwiches on a bench. It got you out of the dirt and fumes for a bit.

In those days, just before the Second World War, jobs in the Works were few and far between for women. In fact, the polishing department was the first to employ women back in the 1870s. A big deal had been made about ‘the comfort of the women.’ Ha, well by 1937 that had all gone by the board.

My dad used to keep on about getting a trade and being set up for life, as if I were a man, but I couldn’t wait to get out of that place. All I wanted was a nice, clean little job before Ted and me got married. I looked forward to polishing my own furniture and it would be a sight easier than French polishing railway carriage doors, I can tell you.

London Street

The Carriage and Wagon Works, London Street published courtesy of Local Studies, Swindon Central Library.

The facts …

By the 1870s the railway factory had been in operation for some 30 years but the GWR were finding it difficult to recruit skilled men. The problem was a shortage of jobs in Swindon for young women, the railwaymen’s daughters. The men wouldn’t move their families to Swindon if there was no work for their daughters.

Joseph Armstrong, the Locomotive, Carriage and Wagon Superintendent, the top man, addressed the problem by extending the Carriage Works on London Street and creating a separate upholstery department for the employment of girls only. By the end of 1874 five women were employed in the new trimming department.

Celia Folland was born in Tredegar, Monmouthshire in 1857, the daughter of Richard Folland, a rail sawer, and his wife Margaret. By 1871 the family had moved to Swindon and were living at 1 Reading Street in the railway village.

Celia Folland was the first woman to be employed in a GWR workshop where she worked as a French polisher, checking in for the first time on July 18, 1874.

Celia married George Morkot at St Mark’s Church, Swindon on July 19, 1883 and by 1891 they were living at 31 Chester Street with their three children, Charles 6, Nellie 4 and George 2. Celia would go on to have another four children.

Celia died aged 65 years old in February 1922 at 31 Chester Street where the family had lived for more than 30 years. Her funeral took place at Radnor Street Cemetery on February 15 and she is buried in plot D1613.

Celia Morkot

Freda and Irene Dening – winners of the Brunel Medal

The re-imagined story …

I always knew those girls would do well, especially little Irene. She was always so attentive and eager to learn.

The turn of the century was an exciting time to be a woman; plenty of new opportunities to be had and women everywhere were pushing the boundaries that had constrained them for too many years.

I began my pupil teacher training at Queens Town Infants School in 1891. Among the girls who joined with me was Edith New who would go on to play a significant role in the Votes for Women campaign with Mrs Pankhurst and her daughters.

Queens Town School opened in 1880, an impressive red brick building built alongside the old canal. Perhaps not the most salubrious of settings, but the school served the Queens Town community well. By the time I began my pupil teacher training there ten years later a girls’ school had been built on the site.

However, there were still anomalies in the teaching profession. Women teachers who taught infants and girls were paid less than men who taught boys, an inequality that Miss New would later campaign to change. But the Swindon School Board was a progressive organisation that set high standards of which young Freda and Irene took best advantage.

When we gained our teaching certification Miss New moved to London, but I stayed closer to home. I followed the Dening sisters careers with great interest. So many of the girls I taught did well, but perhaps none more so than Freda and Irene Dening. I always knew those girls would do well, especially little Irene. Always so attentive and eager to learn.

The facts …

Freda and Irene were born into a railway family. Their father Richard was a steam engine fitter and along with their brother Henry, the three children were all born in Swindon and grew up at 61 Hythe Road.

Freda entered the service of the GWR in 1912 when she was 15 and Irene joined the workforce in 1914 when she was about the same age.

Freda began work in the statistical section of the engineer’s office at Marlow House and was one of the first girls to be employed in the clerical department of the Swindon Works. She studied shorthand and typing at Swindon College, going on to become a shorthand typist in the Works. But her ambition didn’t stop there. She went on to study for three years covering accounting and business methods, the law of carriage by railway, the basis of railway rates and charges.

Her sister Irene was equally ambitious and worked as secretary to the Stores Superintendent. She also went on to study and both women won the prestigious Brunel Medal.

The Brunel Medal was awarded to Students in the railway department of the London School of Economics who, in not more than four years, obtained three first class passes in examinations held in connection with courses approved for the purpose.

The women’s elder brother Henry was also awarded the Brunel Medal, so they were a pretty extraordinary family.

In an interview with the Swindon Advertiser Freda said:

“I really loved my job and it opened many doors to opportunity that my sister and I would not of otherwise had. There were very few women in the railways in those days and it was a fascinating place to be.”

But there were sacrifices to be made. Neither women married nor had children. Of course, this may have been by choice. These days an ambitious woman would probably expect to be able to have it all – as an ambitious man can!

Freda retired early to care for her elderly parents while Irene had a career that spanned nearly 45 years.

Both sisters ended their days in the Cheriton Nursing Home. Irene died on February 25, 1982 aged 81 and Freda on March 18, 1994 aged 96. Their cremated remains are buried here with their parents.

My thanks go to Dr Rosa Matheson who first drew my attention to the Dening sisters in her magnificent book The Fair Sex: Women in the Great Western Railway.

Edith Whitworth – Mrs Great Heart

The re-imagined story …

It was a stupid thing to do, something I realised immediately. As I furiously pedalled home on the stolen cycle, I wondered what to tell my mum. Should I add to the litany of lies I had already told her or should I dump the cycle and the £5 note in a hedge somewhere?

As it turned out I was spared the dilemma as I had been seen climbing out of the window of a house in Tydeman Street and stealing the cycle – by a police constable.

My poor mum was beside herself with worry and shame. She struggled to raise four unruly sons alone after my dad was killed in the war. Just feeding us and putting clothes on our back was difficult enough without the trouble we kept bringing to her door. But this was the first time the police had been involved.

By the time I appeared at the Police Court we were both quietly resigned that I would end up in juvenile detention.

My mates all commiserated, but in fact it was the most fortunate thing that could have happened to me, and as a result, to my brothers as well.

My mum was heartbroken. She felt she had failed me, failed as a mother. She feared for my future. Borstal was seldom the cure-all for youthful miscreants. More often it set them on the path of a lifelong criminal career.

She was in the court room when I appeared – she looked small and broken, sitting there wringing her handkerchief in her hands.

The court officials all looked as I had expected them to – old, serious and not short of a bob or two. How could they possibly understand my life, the life I lived with my mum and my brothers?

Then I noticed the woman sitting at the solicitor’s table – the only woman, and I guessed that must be pretty unusual in itself. And she was knitting! While the men pontificated and poured derision on me and my family, that woman sat quietly knitting, barely paying attention, or so I thought.

It was Mrs Whitworth who saved me. She saved my mum and gave her the confidence to carry on being the best mum she could to us boys. She gave my brothers a wake up call and saved them as well. And she saved countless other lost boys, not just in Swindon and not just in that time.

She said I was an intelligent boy and I should use that intelligence to help others. I hope I have. Over the years I have sat in court rooms just like that one and looked at boys just like me and I’ve helped give them a second chance. And every time I do so I think of Mrs Whitworth – and her knitting!

The facts …

Edith Dawson and her husband Albert Whitworth were not from this neck of the woods. Both of them came from Lancashire. Albert was born in Rochdale and Edith in Bury, the daughter of John Thomas Dawson, a cotton merchant. In 1881 Edith was living with her widowed father at 129 Manchester Street, Heap.

Edith and Albert married in Bury in 1886 and in 1891 were living in Monmouth. In the 19^th century most people moved to Swindon for a job in the GWR Works, but Albert was not a railway man. By the time the family moved to Swindon he was working as a Tailor and Draper’s Traveller. The couple had eight children and sadly by 1911 two of them had already died.

The family lived first at 109 Dixon Street, then at 112 Dixon Street and at the time of Edith’s death in 1925 they were at 26 Dixon Street.

The census returns of 1901 and 1911 tell us nothing of Edith’s occupation.

So, let’s run through a few of Edith’s accomplishments! From 1908 she served in a role described as ‘lady police court missionary’ later becoming a magistrate in 1921. In the obituary that appeared in the North Wilts Herald she was described as having a ‘broad minded disposition that fitted her eminently for the post’ and that there were ‘many young men and women in the town today who have reason to bless the name of Edith Whitworth.’ During the First World War she was heavily involved with the YMCA and working with the ‘Comfort for Soldiers’ volunteers. She was later awarded the MBE for her wartime work.

After the war Edith Whitworth continued to work with war widows and orphans and was a member of the local War Pensions Committee. She also worked for the welfare of the blind alongside Mr E. Jones who later became Mayor.

Edith Whitworth died at her home in Dixon Street following a short illness. She was 59 years old.

A Social Worker

Death of a Swindon Lady

Mrs. E. Whitworth

After a few days’ illness, Mrs. Whitworth, J.P., M.B.E. of 26 Dixon Street, Swindon, who was one of the best known social workers in Swindon, died on Saturday morning at the age of 59 years. She attended a concert at the Empire Theatre on the previous Sunday in aid of the British Legion’s Christmas tea and entertainment for the fatherless children of ex-service men. Next day she was taken ill, and collapsed whilst making preparations for a journey to London.

Medical assistance was called and Mrs Whitworth was found to be suffering from inflammation of the lungs. On Saturday morning she was found dead in bed by her married daughter, Mrs. Marsh.

Mrs. Whitworth was appointed a magistrate in July, 1921, the honour being conferred upon her, after she had relinquished the post, in recognition of her services as lady police court missionary under the Probation Act. It was in the latter capacity, perhaps, that Mrs. Whitworth was best known. Regularly, for 13 years, from the coming into force of the Probation of Offenders Act in January, 1908, she attended the police courts at Swindon, where, seated at the solicitors’ table, she could be seen industriously applying her knitting needles, but all the time following the cases closely, and there are many young men and women in the town to-day who have reason to bless the name of Edith Whitworth.

Mrs. Whitworth will also be remembered for the valued work which she accomplished during the war. Her activities at the Y.M.C.A. in looking after the comfort of the soldiers were very well known, and after the termination of hostilities they were rewarded by the award to Mrs. Whitworth of the M.B.E.

Since the war, Mrs. Whitworth had devoted a great part of her time to the welfare of widows and fatherless children of Swindon men who made the supreme sacrifice, and as a member of the local War Pensions Committee she rendered much useful service. The women’s section of the British Legion also claimed her interest and attention, and she worked wholeheartedly in co-operation with Mr. E. Jones, J.P., for the welfare of the blind, being one of the Swindon representatives of the Wilts County Association.

In the cause of temperance she was also an ardent worker, while in politics she served for a number of years on the Executive of the local Library Association.

Sympathetic references to the death of Mrs. Whitworth were made at Swindon Borough Police Court on Monday.

The Chairman (Mr. G.H. Marshman) said the Bench had lost a valuable colleague, and one who always did her utmost to help suffering humanity. All would mourn her loss.

The Magistrates’ Clerk said the public had lost a very able, experienced and loving public servant.

The Deputy Chief Constable (Supt. Brooks) associated himself with all that the Chairman and Clerk had said.

The Funeral

The funeral took place on Tuesday. The route of the procession to and from deceased’s late residence was lined with spectators, who stood with bowed heads as the cortege passed.

The Trinity Presbyterian Church, Victoria Road, where the first part of the service was conducted, was filled with a congregation of mourners. The Rev. J.H. Gavin, B.D., conducted the service, and special hymns were sung, “O, God, our help in ages past,” and “Now the labourer’s task is o’er.”

Miss Baden presided at the organ and played the Dead March in “Saul” as the mourners were leaving the church.

In a brief address Mr. Gavin paid feeling tribute to the work which deceased had always identified herself with, and said Mrs. Whitworth was a woman with a great heart. If he had to write a modern version of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress,” he would describe Mrs. Whitworth as “Mrs. Great Heart.” She was the friend of widows and orphans of our soldiers who gave their lives in the war, and no-one could number the many acts of kindness on her part during that troublesome time in succouring the depressed and distracted. Ever doing good amongst her fellows, she had now passed to the Great Beyond, where he was sure she would receive the “Come, blessed of My Father.”

The interment took place in the Cemetery in the presence of a large number of people, the Rev. J.H. Gavin again officiating.

North Wilts Herald, Friday, December 18, 1925.

Cemetery volunteers have recently rescued Mrs. Whitworth’s headstone and restored it to it’s correct position on her grave.

Charlotte Andrews – Crimea War

Portrait of Charlotte Wilsdon by Guggenheim, Regent Circus, Swindon

The re-imagined story …

When dad took ill last January, Mrs Andrews sat with him through the night to give mum a break. She hadn’t lived in Spring Gardens for very long, but already we had a lot to thank her for.

She moved in with her daughter a few months ago and quickly became one of those women neighbours called upon in an emergency; although not many people could boast that they had a nurse who had served in Scutari Hospital under Florence Nightingale.

There were some who didn’t believe the stories, but I did, especially after she nursed dad through the deliriums of his illness. She was methodical and well organised and scrupulously clean, all habits she had learned from Miss Nightingale, she said. She told me about the awful conditions in the Scutari Hospital when the nurses first arrived and how more soldiers were dying on the wards there than on the battlefields during fighting in the Crimea War.

Listening to her talk I thought that somebody should be recording her stories. Surely we should be celebrating the life of this extraordinary woman.

Mrs Andrews was for me an inspirational character. I didn’t become a nurse, that was not to be my vocation, but I studied history and now I write and record the lives of amazing women like Charlotte Andrews.

The facts …

In June to August 1854 20% of the British Expeditionary Force in the Crimea fell sick with cholera, diarrhoea and dysentery. Almost 1,000 men died before a shot was fired in what was then called the Russian War.

On September 30, 1854 The Times correspondent in Constantinople reported that there were not enough surgeons and nurses; not enough linen for bandages; that wounded soldiers often waited a week before being seen by a doctor on board ship from Balaclava to Constantinople.

It was news reports such as these that galvanised Florence Nightingale into applying her nursing skills where they were so desperately needed.

Together with a group of 38 women volunteers Florence left London Bridge Station early on October 23, 1854. From Folkestone the women boarded the Boulogne packet; then they travelled via Paris and Lyons to Marseilles where they took the mail steamer Vectis to Scutari. The journey lasted 13 days. Among these women was Charlotte Wilsdon, a woman born in Abingdon, who would end her days living in Spring Gardens, Swindon.

At the outbreak of war in 1854 Charlotte was living in Oxford with her two young daughters. She had been married and widowed twice and was then working as a tailoress, taking in lodgers to make ends meet. In October of that year Charlotte responded to Florence Nightingale’s appeal for nursing volunteers. Charlotte was recommended by Dr Henry Wentworth Acland, and it is likely she gained her nursing experience during the cholera epidemic that had swept through Oxford earlier that year.

Florence Nightingale and her corps of nurses arrived in Turkey on November 4, on the eve of a major Russian attack at Inkerman.

Following the battle the Rev Sidney Godolphin Osborne described conditions at Scutari, a former military building where those wounded at Inkerman were brought, as being totally unfit to serve as a hospital. Patients were lined up along the corridors, their beds mere thin stuffed sacking mattresses and rotten wooden divans. There was a shortage of medicines and food. Charlotte and the other newly arrived nurses began work immediately, attending to hundreds of casualties where deaths numbered 20-30 a day.

Florence Nightingale’s nurses were paid 12–14 shillings (60-70p) a week, which included their keep and a uniform, rising to 18-20 shillings (90p-£1) following a year’s good conduct. Drunkenness proved a big problem among the unqualified women and several were dismissed. However, it was with regret that Florence had to send the invalided Charlotte back to England.

In a letter to Lady Cranworth, a member of the management committee, dated June 7, 1856 she writes:

‘Charlotte Wilsdon, I regret to say, I was obliged to invalid home 23 May by the advice of the medical officers. She is a kind, active and useful nurse, a strictly sober woman. And, I consider, well entitled to the gratuity of the month’s wages, promised by the War Office, and which I venture to solicit you grant her. I have directed her to apply to you.’

After more than a year of working in such dangerous and challenging conditions, her health compromised, Charlotte returned home to Abingdon.

Charlotte was born in Abingdon in 1817, the daughter of Stephen Cox, a carpet weaver, and his wife Ann. She married and outlived three husbands. Her first was William Higgins, a carpet weaver, who died leaving Charlotte a widow at the age of 26 with two young daughters, Harriet and Selina, to support. She married William Wilsdon two years later but by the age of thirty-three Charlotte was widowed for a second time. In 1859 Charlotte married William Andrews. Widowed for the third time in 1869, Charlotte lived independently for many years until old age and infirmity caught up with her. Sometime during the early 1890s she moved to Swindon to live with her daughter.

She died on March 22, 1896 at her daughter Harriet’s home, 3 Spring Gardens, Swindon. She was buried on March 27 in Radnor Street Cemetery in plot C772 which she shares with Hannah Richards who died in 1944 and is probably a family member.

Arthur and Sarah and the Ashfield angel

The re-imagined story …

The Ashfield angel was my mum’s favourite memorial in Radnor Street Cemetery. Weird, I know, but my mum was like that.

She wanted a ‘Victorian’ funeral with a hearse drawn by black horses with plumes and mutes (whatever they are) in attendance, until she realised how much it would all cost. I thought it sounded like an East End gangster’s funeral myself.

My mum loved Radnor Street Cemetery but she always knew it could never be her final resting place. The cemetery had long since closed to new burials and we didn’t have an existing family plot.

Mind you she spent enough time up there when she was alive and as I mentioned the Ashfield angel was one of her favourites.

“She looks like she has taken them by the hand and led them away to heaven,” she used to say. I know, vaguely creepy.

Mum wasn’t even that religious and she certainly didn’t believe in a life after death and heaven. Personally, I don’t think the statue is even an angel, but there we are. It’s funny the effect Radnor Street Cemetery can have on a person. Take me for example, wandering around the graves and stopping at the Ashfield angel.

The facts …

This is the final resting place of Arthur and Sarah Ashfield.

Arthur worked as a carpenter and railway horse box builder in the GWR Works. In 1904 he married Sarah Gray, the daughter of a steam engine maker and fitter. At the time of the 1911 census Arthur and Sarah lived at 30 Alfred Street with their five year old son Charles and Arthur’s widowed mother Annie.

The youngest child of Charles and Annie Ashfield, Arthur was born in 1881, the year that Radnor Street Cemetery opened. Although his birth place is stated as Stratton, by the time he was a month old the family were living at 19 Redcross Street, the original name for Radnor Street.

In 1891 Arthur and his family were living at 71 Radnor Street in quite possibly the same house, following the renaming and renumbering of the street.

Sarah died in 1927 aged 46 and Arthur 22 years later when he was 68.