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| Owdham Wakes by J. T. Taylor (1851 - 1926) According to Sue Borthwick, one of his descendents, John Thomas Taylor was born in Burnley Lane, Chadderton, which in the early 19th century was very rural. His parents were hand loom silk weavers working in the loom house attached to their cottage, a nd at an early age he would help by winding bobbins. His parents wished for him an education and he did attend, for a short time, a school in Burnley Lanerun by John Buckley. But his father’s failing health, coupled with stagnation in the silk industry, meant that he had to go out to work. So, at 9 years old, he went to work in a brickyard in Middleton Road, Chadderton and then two years later he joined Platt Brothers (iron trade) as a half timer (i.e. work and school on alternate days). His working day was from 6am to 6pm. He also attended the Unitarian Sunday School in Lord Street, Oldham where he learnt reading, writing, arithmetic and grammar. At 14 he started an apprenticeship as an iron turner and in due course became a foreman, initially in the tool turning department and later over the tool fitting department as well. In 1901 he was appointed head foreman in the General Turning Department. This was a large department employing many people and had thousands of machine tools necessary for the production of textile machines. He was a well informed, clever man who was a good organiser with a strong personality. He was also a strict disciplinarian, regular and punctual. About 1910 he was sent by the firm to America to study their methods. He took many photos during his travels and on his return to England gave several public lectures on his “American Impressions”. He continued to live with his family until his marriage in 1877 to Betty Taylor. They had two sons, Herbert born in 1881 and Wilfred born in 1885. Herbert became a draughtsman and Wilfred a commercial clerk and both were devoted workers in the Unitarian Church and Sunday School. Herbert was sent to Australia for his health and then lived on the Isle of Man, but he died of consumption in 1906. In 1913 Wilfred also died of consumption. Later that year John and Betty presented a large three-light stained glass window representing the four acts of mercy to the Unitarian Church as a memorial to their sons. John Thomas Taylor became secretary of the local Liberal Party and spoke at many meetings and he was also an active member of the Oldham Industrial Cooperative Society. He was a talented author writing many sketches and poems,contributing to the Oldham Chronicle under nom-de-plumes “Jammy o’ Jims”, “Mally o’ Tums” and “John Jones”. He also founded and edited a monthly periodical – “Oldham Co-operative Record”. In 1900 he was asked to write the “Jubilee History” of the Oldham Industrial Society. After his death an anthology of his poems and stories was published. In 1918 his health broke down and he became seriously ill. Whilst nursing him his wife Betty had a stroke and subsequently died. His sister in law, Sarah Urmson, a widow herself, continued to nurse him until he was fully recovered and in 1920 they were married. He died in 1926 aged 75 years. He is buried in Chadderton cemetery; the grave marked by a 9ft granite obelisk.
Until I was kindly contacted by Sue Borthwick, I knew almost nothing about J. T. Taylor. However his poem 'Owdham Wakes', published in 'A Lancashire Miscellany' in 1960, really appealed to me - and for several reasons. First, it is a splendid poem; second, it is about Oldham, which is where the Dunkerleys developed during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; third, it deals with an episode that took place in the 1920s in which my grandfather was intimately involved and that caused great hardship in Oldham. You can read about this in my article on 'The Regent Cotton Mill, Failsworth' in the Family History section of this website and also in the account of my grandfather's life 'Billy Dunkerley & Selina Martin'.
Basically, after the end of the First World War, it appeared that there would be another boom in the cotton industry. On the strength of the optimism then prevailing, several brand-new cotton mills were built and many existing mills were re-capitalized, share capital being replaced by loans. Furthermore, the new shares were 'part paid' so that, for example, the owner of a £1 share only contributed, say, 50p. It was widely believed that the other 50p would never be 'called up'. However, the boom collapsed as it became apparent that overseas competitors, such as the Japanese, Americans and recovering European economies, could undercut the high-cost Lancashire mills. Trade collapsed and the banks called in their loans, obliging the owners of the part-paid shares to stump up the outstanding capital in a series of 'Calls'. The process lasted several years and caused widespread despondency as a large proportion of the population had been suckered into taking part in these speculative 'get rich quick' schemes.
Many people, including my grandfather, tightened their belts and paid their calls, thus throwing good money after bad (the alternative was the shame of bankruptcy). Many too, again like my grandfather, were made redundant and forced out of an industry in which they had worked for decades. The Lancashire - and Oldham - mills never recovered and the decline continued - with some ups and down - until Lancashire no longer had any significance in an industry it had once dominated. Such is industrial decline.
For those who don't know, 'Tommyfield' was (and still is) the site of Oldham Market. The whole town used to close down in August for a week of holiday - called the 'Wakes'. At this time a substantial part of the population would go off to the seaside - Blackpool was the most popular destination, or Southport if you were a bit posh. The cotton mills would carry out major maintenance work at this time and it must have been strange to see scores of factory chimneys with no black smoke coming from them. The less well-off stayed at home, but had the option of visiting the fair that came to offer amusements at Tommyfield. The protagonists of our poem are about to go on holiday when the postman delivers another Call. Making the best of a bad job John and Sally swallow their disappointment, put away the holiday cases and have a good day out at the fair. Now read on: | |
| Owdham Wakes
by J. T. Taylor To stop awhoam this Owdham Wakes
Aw thowt would be as well;
In fact, to tell yo’ th’ gradely truth,
Aw couldno’ help mysel’.
Aw couldno’ boast o’ ready brass,
Though credit’s full an’ free;
It’s chiefly made o’ heavy calls-
That mak’ a wakes o’ me.
Aw’d just completed packin’ up,
And puttin’ th’ label on,
When th’ postman coom an’ rapp’d at th’ dur-
"Another letter, John,"
"Another call," aw said to th’ wife,
"Another call be hanged!"
An’ th’ chap could hardly get away
Ere th’ dur wur shut an’ bang’d.
Of course, aw softly sided th’ things
As though we’d just com’d back,
An’ th’ wife stood by, but never spoke-
But didno’ hoo look black!
Hoo didno’ poo her bonnet off
For sich a lung, lung while,
An’ do an’ say whate’er aw would
Aw couldno’ get her t’ smile.
An’ then hoo vow’d, as wimen con-
Yo’ve yerd ‘em aw’ve no deawbt-
That thoose met share, an’ share ‘at loik’t,
Hoo wish’d that we wur eawt.
Hoo’d had no pleasure sin’ we first
Began to spekilate;
But then aw wanted brass so fast
Aw couldno’ work an’ wait.
"Neaw, dunno’ spake a word," hoo said;
"Thy case needs no defence,
For th’ job is done, an’ here we are
Awhoam, i’ consequence."
"Nay, nay," aw said, "there is no need
To stop awhoam at o;
We’ll go as far as Tommy Fielt,
An’ in a penny show.
"There’s lots o’ folk as well as us
I’ th same predicament;
Besides, we’re savin’ th’ brass, theaw knows,
So rest thysel’ content.
Come, breeten up thy face a bit;
What, though it rains today,
There’ll come a time o’ sunshine yet-
There’s worse things done aw say."*
Hoo veer’d reawnd i’ course o’ time,
An’ then hoo said to me,
"Well, if we go to Tommy Fielt
Whatever shall we see?"
"What shall we see? Eh, bless me, wench,
There’s circuses an’ shows,
There’s endless fun an’ merriment,
An’ lots o’ folk theaw knows."
"Well, then, we’ll go." An’ go we did,
An’ had a gradely reawnd;
We yerd o sorts o’ dismal chords
Mak’ up a dismal seawnd.
The showman towd us what they had,
They sheawted leawd an’ strung,
An’ swore they’d give us fifty peawnd
If what they said wur wrung.
We went to Howden’s manikins,
An’ rare an’ good they wur;
It fairly capp’ed me heaw they made
Thoose little chaps to stir.
They’rn up an’ deawn i’ double quick,
So nimble wur their shanks,
But th’ worst on ‘t wur, they played at nowt
But reet deawn peevish pranks.
We went to see the goblinscope,
We went i’ th’ circus, too;
In fact, we went i’ ev’ry show
To see what there wur t’ do.
Aw said aw’d ride a hobby horse,
An’ th’ wife said so would hoo;
So on we geet, loike jockeys bowd,
An’ reawnd an reawnd we flew.
Aw see’d eawr Sally turnin’ pale,
Aw shawted for my life,
"Yo’ rascals, stop that engine neaw;
Yo’re beawn’ to kill my wife!"
They stopp’d , an’ deawn aw jump’d at once,
An’ ran across the street;
Aw geet some brandy, nice an’ warm,
An’ help’d her on her feet.
Hoo werno’ lung i’ comin’ reawnd,
It seem’d to do her good,
An’ if aw’d ax’t her t’ ride again
Aw do believe hoo would.
Heawever, th’ time wur getting’ on,
An’ th’ brass wur getting’ done,
"So let’s be goin’ whoam," aw said,
"We’ve had enoof o’ fun." | | Audio: You man need to allow ActiveX to listen.
Glossary
Awhoam - home
Hoo - don't forget that this is a lovely Lancashire dialect word meaning 'She'
Brass - money (of course)
'It fairly capp'd me' - I was really amazed
Beawn - going
At say - at sea
Manikins - puppets
* Note: Lancashire Miscellany has 'done aw say', but I think the sense indicates that this may have originally been 'done at say'. | |
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