Richenson’s Patent Aerial Battleship

In late August 1908, the Sentinel and numerous other papers up and down the country carried the story that an engineer, Mr A. T. Richenson. and who was living at 5 Ward Street, Burslem, claimed to have it within his power—providing he could get proper funding—to build a dirigible air-battleship which would carry guns and that the War Office was showing an interest in his proposal. Intrigued, a representative of the Sentinel called upon Mr. Richenson and found him quite willing to talk of his invention. The reporter described Mr Richenson as a coloured man who had been born at Barbados, British West Indies, who had first come to Britain twenty years earlier to serve an apprenticeship as a marine engineer at the Elder Dempster Co.'s work at Liverpool. He then served in the Royal Engineers' Constabulary at British Honduras for several years before returning to England in 1891. After working as an engineer at sea for a period of three years, he started work as an engineer for Messrs Vickers Son, and Maxim at Sheffield and continued in their employment for a considerable time.

Mr Richenson said, “This air-battleship has been my life study and I am confident, providing I can get some gentlemen to back me up with financial assistance, that its success will be great.” He produced a number of letters for the reporter showing that the War Office was taking more than a passing interest in his invention, though he added that negociations were currently paused as the War Office wanted him to disclose certain details regarding the construction of his air-battleship which he did not want to release. Though he remained cagey regarding the construction details of his aerial battleship, Richenson stated that the length of the "deck " was to be 100 ft and it would carry six small calibre guns. The car supporting the deck and guns, was to have three sets of petrol engines to provide motive power and there would be three propellers, one at the front of the ‘ship’ and the other two aft. Wings were to play an important part in the vessel, and attached to the car there will be a balloon 100 feet in length and 90 feet in diameter, making it part plane and part airship. Mr. Richenson claimed that his air-battleship could be steered in any direction in even the worst conditions. By a secret process, which he would not divulge, he said he could reduce the amount of gas required to keep the vessel in the air. He had a working model at Manchester, noting, "It is twelve feet long, by six wide and the moving of a lever releases it from its anchorage, and it soars into the air like a pigeon leaving its nest." The only major problem was a lack of funding to take the project further and he added that any gentlemen who was interested in the matter would be shown drawings of the "ship," and if the money was made available he would have the airship built by a reliable engineering firm.

One has to wonder if this was a genuine project or an elaborate scam-cum-money pit, as after that there was no further mention of Mr Richenson and his innovative new air battleship in any newspapers. If for real, then either the cash injection he hoped for to fund his project was not forthcoming, or the War Office were unimpressed with his invention and his caveats and never returned to the negotiations.

Reference: Staffordshire Sentinel, 29 August 1908, p.6; The Manchester Evening News, 28 August 1908, p.6; Banffshire Herald, 5 September 1908, p.6.

Wind-Stars for Mr Wells

Norman Saunder's illustration showing the
Time Traveller rescuing Weena from the
Morlocks in The Time Machine.
(Wikimedia Commons)

In early 1888, 22 year old Herbert George Wells was recovering from an illness, some disorder of the lungs, and went to stay with an old college friend and his wife at their terraced house in Basford for a few months where he was apparently a troublesome and petulant house guest; perhaps as a result he also spent some time lodging at the Leopard Inn in Burslem. The future ‘father of science fiction’ had lived most of his life in rural or semi-rural districts and the Potteries was the first industrial landscape he had encountered. As he later wrote to local author Arnold Bennett, ‘the district made an immense impression on me’ and his memories of the area later found their way into his works. 

In the 1890s, Wells wrote a short essay entitled ‘How I Died’, in which he seemed to recount his recovery at this period. He described how after four months lying ill and convinced that he was dying, he staggered out one early spring morning to get some fresh air and take a last look at the sky before expiring, when he encountered a young girl who had got her dress caught by a bramble whilst climbing a hedge. After helping her free, the invalid stood chatting with the girl about this and that and he noted that she carried a small bunch of wood anemones that she called ‘wind-stars’. Wells was charmed by the pretty name that the innocent youngster gave her flowers and by his account the meeting - if genuine - bucked him up and he grew bored with the idea that he was dying and decided at that point to put all gloomy thoughts aside and get on with his life. It has been suggested that this pleasant meeting was the model for the time traveller’s first encounter with the childlike Eloi Weena in Wells’ first novel, The Time Machine, who presents a bunch of flowers to him for saving her life, then sits with him as he tries to communicate with her. Also in The Time Machine, a friend of the time traveller refers to a conjuror he had once seen in Burslem, while the spectacle of the Potteries at night with its numerous kilns and furnaces casting a fiery glow into the sky, is famously referenced early on in his next novel, The War of the Worlds, to describe the destruction wrought by the Martian war machines.

In addition to these famous examples there were lesser tales of his that owed something to the Potteries. In 1895, the same year that The Time Machine was published and he began work on The War of the Worlds, Wells had a short macabre horror story The Cone published, which was set in a fictional forge in Etruria, and was probably based on Earl Granville’s iron works. That story was all that remained of what Wells had originally planned to be a larger dramatic novel set in the area, but he went on to produce another work, the slightly scandalous science fiction novel (because it advocated free love) In the Days of the Comet, published in 1906, which was also set in a fictional version of the Potteries.

The Lamppost of Beauty

On 11 June 1956, 46 year old Arnold Machin and his 34 year old wife Pat of number 15 The Villas, Stoke, took a stand against the encroachment of post-war brutalist architecture and what they saw as the insidious spread of ‘subtopia’ near their home. When they heard that morning that a gang of workmen were coming later that day to remove an old Victorian lamppost from the centre of their estate and replace it with a modern streamlined concrete electric lamppost, they were appalled that such a fine bit of street furniture was being usurped simply in the name of progress. So, the Machin’s decided to make a stand and promptly sat themselves in front of the lamp for the next six hours. It was a hot day, so they hunkered down under an umbrella and tellingly sat reading The Seven Lamps of Architecture by John Ruskin, (an essay that outlined the principal demands of good architecture) and waited to see what transpired.

Arnold Machin was no mean intellect when it came to the subject of form and beauty. Born in 1911 at Oak Hill, he had begun his working life as a china painter at Mintons, but moved on to study sculpture at the Art School in Stoke, followed by a stint at Derby Art School and then the Royal Academy in London. He was later retained as a designer for Wedgwood and worked a teacher at the Burslem School of Art and in the same year that he made his stand over the lamppost, he was elected as a member of the Royal Academy and a Fellow of the Royal Society of British Sculptors. And as his record showed, like many a seemingly straight-laced academic, he had a strong rebellious streak and was prepared to stand up for his beliefs come what may. Sixteen years earlier Arnold Machin had done just that and served time in prison during World War Two for being a conscientious objector. Now, when the workmen turned up he stuck to his principles once more, saying: " I forbid you, as a token protest on my part, to remove this ornamental gas-lamp centrepiece."

Faced by the prickly couple and not sure what to do, the workmen politely withdrew and put in a call to the city surveyor, Mr D. F. Brewster who soon arrived on scene. In response to the official, Mr Machin merely turned to Chapter IV "The Lamp of Beauty." of Ruskin’s work and carried on reading. When shortly after this a police inspector and a sergeant also appeared, seeing what was afoot Machin put down his book, threw his arms around the lamppost and his wife slipped a chain around his wrists and padlocked him in place. Mr Machin then proclaimed to the police: "This is my protest against the destruction of all the beautiful things which is going on in this country." 

The officials paused to have a quick conference then offered Mr Machin a compromise, saying that he could have the lamppost to have in his garden. He was satisfied with the suggestion, so Pat unlocked him. A crane arrived a short time later, pulled the lamp out of the ground, carried it 40 yards to the Machins’ house and dropped it neatly outside their front gate. Undaunted by the large post with a sizeable block of concrete at the bottom, the Machin’s said they were going to mount a commemorative plaque on it, find somewhere to put it in their garden and surround it with flowers. 

Reference: Daily Mail, 12 July 1956.

Buffalo Bill Rides in... and Bows Out

Buffalo Bill and some of the Red Indians in 1890
Source: Wikimedia Commons

On 17 August 1891, former hunter and US army scout turned impresario, William Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, opened his 'Wild West Show' for the first of six days of performances in the Potteries. The show was making a tour of Britain and had arrived from Sheffield several days earlier in three trains comprising 76 carriages, bearing 250 performers, several hundred horses and dozens of bison. Cody and his company also brought enough scaffolding with them to build a pavilion that could seat 15,000 spectators, which was quickly constructed not far from the train station in Stoke by local workers. A Red Indian village was also built nearby for the many native American performers and their families, which became a great attraction during their stay. In the main pavilion there were two shows a day at 3pm and 6pm and though it rained on the first day the weather improved as the week went on. Sure enough, as elsewhere, thousands of local people turned up to watch the likes of Annie Oakley with her sharp shooting, cowboys riding bucking broncos and especially the Red Indians riding around the pavilion, whooping their war cries as they attacked stage coaches or a pioneer cabin. At the end of each performance, Buffalo Bill himself, elegantly clad in his buckskin suit, rode into the arena mounted on a white horse and was wildly cheered by the crowd as he made his parting bow.

Thirteen years later on 21 October 1904, the people of the Potteries witnessed the last ever performance by 'Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show' to be held in Britain. The season had started here earlier that year on 25 April, most of the animals and some of the cowboys and stable hands having overwintered at Etruria, while the bulk of the company had gone home. Now after their last tour of the country, the show made a return to the area prior to departing for the Continent. They signed off with two final performances held on this day at the Agricultural Show Fields at Birches Head. The evening performance attracted a crowd of 12,500 people and at the end of the show the performers were bid goodbye by the audience spontaneously singing Auld Lang Syne.  

Reference: Staffordshire Sentinel, 17 – 18 August 1891; Staffordshire Sentinel, 22 October 1904.

Vinegar and Vanity

Some of the unusual and dangerous practices indulged in by teenage girls to make themselves look attractive, were highlighted in 1901 in the tragic case of 15 year old Florence Henrietta Burton of Longton, who met an untimely end in the pursuit of beauty.

Florence was the youngest of four children born in late 1885 to coal miner Samuel Burton and his wife Harriet. Her father had died a few years after Florence’s birth and her mother had remarried, though by 1901, she was again a widow living at 3 Adam Place, Longton with her 18 year old son John Thomas Burton a potter’s presser, Florence who was a potter’s gilder, and an elderly boarder. The census was the last official document to record Florence alive, as the final act of a bizarre drama was playing out in the Burton family home.

For some time her mother Harriet had been getting increasingly worried about Florence, who had started drinking large amounts of vinegar and eating lemons. She had spoken to her daughter about it, but to no avail, the girl would scarcely eat anything without pickles or something else acidic. Florence’s friend Julia Brain later revealed that she knew that Florence had obtained large quantities of lemons from a local fruit shop ‘on trust’ and said that she had also seen her pour out a glass of vinegar, pour salt into it and drink it. When quizzed as to the reason for this Julia said it was to try and make her complexion ‘pale and nice’ giving her skin a translucent quality to make her more attractive; but in truth Florence’s beauty regime was gradually killing her. The end came suddenly in June 1901 when Florence was at work and suffered chest pains that made her so ill that she had to go back home. Once there she reportedly suffered a fit and died shortly afterwards.

As a result of her sudden death, a post-mortem was carried out by a Dr Howells, who reported to the inquest into the girl’s death that Florence had died due to heart disease caused by her unusual diet. Her practice of consuming large amounts of vinegar, salt and lemons would, he said, ‘disorganise the whole system, upset digestion and cause the person to be half-starved, though well and apparently well nourished.’

The Coroner, clearly flabbergasted by what he had heard, asked the surgeon, “Why do girls do these things?” Dr Howells answered, “To make them pale and interesting-looking. They like to look transparent.” - “And it kills them?” - “It does.” The Coroner commented on the folly of such practices and the jury returned a verdict of ‘Death from Natural Causes.’ 

Reference: Birmingham Mail, 28 June 1901, p.4; Coventry Evening Telegraph 28 June 1901, p.2.)

Lights in the Night Sky

During a spate of UFO reports across North Staffordshire, a large number of witnesses around Beverley Drive and Wendline Close in Bentilee reported seeing a large, brightly-lit saucer-shaped object soar overhead shortly after 9 pm on 2 September 1967 and land in the fields at the far end of the Close, where it lit up the surrounding area like a bonfire. The object, described by witnesses as a dark orange disk surmounted with a glowing red dome, was then seen to hop from one field to another, attracting more onlookers as it did so. The police were called and before the object vanished the officers did witness unusual lights as the ‘saucer’ took off, but could draw no conclusions, suspecting that they were simply car lights. Two amateur investigators Roger Stanway and Anthony Pace later interviewed the witnesses and compiled a detailed report of the incident. 

Reference: Roger H. Stanway & Anthony R. Pace: Flying saucer report. UFOs, unidentified, undeniable. (1968). 

Ghastly Relics - A Very Tall Tale of the Potteries

Occasionally, stories related to the Potteries appeared in newspapers both in Britain and abroad that either cannot be proven (at least not yet), grew in the telling, or are so ridiculous that they had obviously been made up. The infamous story of the 'Man and Dog fight' peddled by journalist James Greenwood in 1874 would arguably fall into this category except that scandal it caused and the eventual  unravelling of the tale make for an interesting bit of local history in itself outside of Greenwood's work of fiction. 

At least Greenwood's tale initially had the gloss of truth to it and showed some imagination. Some stories though are simply the bits of nonsensical fluff that authors or reporters throughout history have concocted simply to fill up space. These often sensationalist tales were then repeated verbatim through syndication in other books or papers. The preposterous 'Ghastly Relics of Waterloo' is a prime example of the latter.

 Ghastly Relics of Waterloo.

(Cor. Boston Traveller)

'For the truth of the incident related below I have the most possible proof: George Shaw, a brave Englishman, when surrounded on the field at Waterloo by a number of the enemy, made a gallant struggle for existence, and fought his way back to his comrades over the dead bodies of a dozen Frenchmen whom he had slain. As a reward for his bravery, Wellington sent for the soldier, and in the course of his conversation with him, gave him permission to take home with him whatever relic he chose from the battlefield. Shaw's choice was the skeleton of a French General, killed in the action. The ghastly trophy was safely transported to England and hung in the soldier's closet at Hanley and Staffordshire, England, till he came to regard it is a nuisance and disposed of it to Samuel Bullock, a manufacturer of china. As bones form a large proportion of the ingredients from which English china is made, it occurred to the manufacturer that the remains of the poor General would look much better made up in some handsome ornament than dangling from a peg in an obscure closet; and in accordance with this inspiration, the French General was ground down, and, in due time, was metamorphosed into teacups and saucers; in which condition he adorns to this day the museum at Hawley, appropriately inscribed with the history of his transformation. It happened one day that Marshal Soult visited the museum, and his attention was attracted by the china, which has a bright pink tint and is ornamented with flowers. But when his eye rested upon the label, which enabled him to recognize in the collection the remains of one of his former generals, the marshal was deeply shocked; and, "wrapping his martial cloak around him," walked indignantly away. He did not forget to inform Napoleon, then at St. Helena, of the indignity which had been offered to the memory of their departed countryman. "It is no indignity," quoth Napoleon; "what more pleasing disposition can there be of one's bones after death than to be made into cups to be constantly in use; and placed between the rosy lips of ladies? The thought is delightful!" This was an aspect of the case which had net occurred to the prosaic marshal; but he was forced to content himself with it.'

The story seems to be a bare-faced mix of fact and fantasy the exploits of 'George Shaw' mimicking somewhat the story of Corporal John Shaw, a noted pugilist and artists' model who served with the Life Guards at Waterloo, where he was killed fighting several French cavalrymen. 

Reference: numerous US newspapers, see for instance The Somerset Press (Somerset, Ohio) 11 December 1879, p.1

A Very Gruesome Football

A startling and macabre discovery was made on Sunday 29 December 1907 on the farm of Mr Bassett, of Trentham, next to the Staffordshire estate of the Duke of Sutherland. Some children playing in a barn on the farm were seen to be kicking a curious object about. A farm hand went over to them to  investigate and on examining the ‘football’ found that it was a human skull. 

The police were called for and a search soon revealed some clothing hidden under the hay in the barn and a short while later a human skeleton was discovered. That particular batch of hay had been harvested in 1906 and as the police could not trace any disappearance from the locality in that year, they quickly came to the conclusion that the skeleton was that of a tramp. There was some evidence to support this as a piece of soap and several other articles often carried by tramps were found in the pockets of the clothing. 

It seemed very likely that the tramp had snuck into the barn, climbed into the hay and fallen asleep. If this had happened immediately after harvesting and the hay was what is known as ‘sweating’ (i.e. the freshly cut plants were still giving off moisture, carbon dioxide and heat) this it was said would be sufficient to cause his death. That the body had been reduced to a skeleton after being only eighteen months in the hay was probably due the barn being infested with rats. 

Uttoxeter Advertiser and Ashbourne Times, Wednesday 1 January 1908, p.8

Old News from the Potteries

Regular newspaper coverage of events in the Potteries only really started at the end of the 18th century with the advent in 1795 of the Staffordshire Advertiser paper, though as this was published in Stafford, it's coverage of the goings on in the north of the county was limited to the most noteworthy events. Another half century would pass before more local newspapers were being produced in Hanley, Stoke and Burslem. However, histories, travellers journals and some other national or regional papers occasionally carried tales from the Potteries from this early period giving us fleeting glimpses into life in the area.

* * * * *

The King's Touch

It was widely believed in the past that the King's touch could heal certain ailments. To this end on 29 August 1687, the minister and churchwardens of Stoke-upon-Trent gave John Bell of Cobridge a sealed certificate whereby he could obtain the King's sacred touch for his son Samuel Bell, who suffered from 'the King's Evil' i.e. scrofula. 

(John Ward, The History of the Borough of Stoke-upon-Trent, p.281)

John Wesley is Pelted in the Potteries 

On 8 March 1760, the Reverend John Wesley, the founding father of Methodism, visited Burslem for the first of many visits to the region. He described Burslem as 'a scattered town, on the top of a hill, inhabited almost entirely by potters', a large crowd of whom had gathered to hear him at five in the evening. He noted that great attention sat on every face, but also great ignorance which he hoped he could banish. 

The next day Wesley preached a second sermon in Burslem to twice the number of the day before. 'Some of these seemed quite innocent of thought. Five or six were laughing and talking till I had near done; and one of them threw a clod of earth, which struck me on the side of the head. But it neither disturbed me nor the congregation.' 

(John Wesley, Journal, 8-9th March 1760)

The First Cut

After receiving the royal assent two months earlier for construction of a canal connecting the rivers Trent and Mersey, on the morning of 26 July 1766, at a site just below Brownhills, pottery manufacturer Josiah Wedgwood cut the first sod of what would in time become the Trent and Mersey canal. James Brindley, the engineer who would oversee the canal's construction, and numerous other dignitaries were present, many of whom would also cut a piece of turf, or wheel away a barrow of earth to mark the occasion. In the afternoon a sheep was roasted in Burslem market place for the benefit of the poorer potters in the town. A bonfire was also lit in front of Wedgwood's house and many other events took place around the Potteries by way of celebration. 

(Jean Lindsay, The Trent and Mersey Canal, pp.31-32)

News from the North

'As you often give me London News, I will give you some from this Country, which has of late made a Figure. This Neighbourhood has for many Years made Pots for Europe, and will still do so, though the King of Prussia has lately clapt 28 per Cent, upon them. Our Roads were so bad that nobody came to view the Place where the Flint Ware is made, but now we have Turnpikes upon Turnpikes, and our Potteries are as well worth seeing as the Stockport Silk-Mills, or the Bridgewater Navigation, which we intend to beat hollow by Lord Gower's, now begun in our Meadows, and advancing apace towards Harecastle, on the other Side of which Multitudes of Men are at work, and before Christmas we shall have cut through the Hill, and made another Wonder of the World. There are already 100 Men employed on our Side, and 100 more will be added as soon as Wheelbarrows can be procured for them. Saturday last we had brave Sport at Earl Gower's, where 100,000 Spectators were present at the Prison-Bars played in Trentham Park. Among them were the Dukes of Bedford and Bridgewater. The Prizes were Ten Carline Hats, with gold Loops and Buttons, given by the Earl. The Cheshire Men were active Fellows, but unluckily their Lot was to wear Plod Drawers, to distinguish them from their Antagonists, which made the Crowd oppose their getting the Honour of the Day. During this Game, my Friend Bucknall loft his Boy, about Eight Years of Age, who was suffocated by going aslant down a Sort of a Cave into an old Coalpit, the top of which was fallen in. The Man that ventured to fetch him out, found a Number of Birds, supposed to have dropped down there by the sulphurous Stench issuing from the Pit. We have much Hay, and Cheese is plenty, and Corn without Barn-room, nor do we want Money. 

P. S. I have just seen a Hen, which laid Twelve Eggs only, from which she has brought up Twelve Cock Chickens, which is looked upon as somewhat remarkable.' 

(Extract of a Letter from Burslem,14  August 1766, Derby Mercury, Friday 29 August 1766, p.2)

Tunnel Vision

On 1 July 1772, an anonymous correspondent writing from Burslem related what he had seen the day before when he and some companions paid a visit to the first incarnation of the Harecastle Tunnel, situated between Tunstall and Kidsgrove and then under construction as part of James Brindley's Trent and Mersey Canal. 

'Yesterday we took a walk to the famous subterraneous canal at Harecastle, which is now opened for a mile on one side of the hill, and more than half a mile on the other, of course the whole must be compleated in a short time. As it is not yet filled with water, we entered into it, one of the party repeating the beautiful lines in Virgil, which describe the descent of Æneas into the Elysian fields. On a sudden our ears were struck with the most melodious sounds. - Lest you should imagine us to have heard the genius or goddess of the mountain singing the praises of engineer Brindly, it may be necessary to inform you, that one of the company had advanced some hundred paces before, and there favoured us with some excellent airs on the German flute. You can scarcely conceive the charming effect of this music echoed and re-echoed along a cavern near two thousand yards in length.' 

(Leeds Intelligencer, Tuesday 14 July 1772, p.3)

A Fungi to Be With

'A few days ago, a mushroom was got at Stoke-upon-Trent, in the county of Stafford, whose diameter was 5 inches, and 30 inches in circumference, it weighed 16 ounces. The above is very authentic.' 

(Leeds Intelligencer, 5 September 1775, p.3)

All in a Spin

'The following extraordinary phenomenon was lately observed here; at the latter end of last month, a field of hay belonging to Mr. J. Clark, near Burslem, was carried off by a whirlwind; the day when it happened was exceedingly calm, scarce a breath of air to be perceived. The people who were at work in the field observed, that in one part the hay began to be agitated in a small circle, at every wheel it increased in size and velocity, continually sucking more hay into its vortex; after a considerable time it began to ascend, taking along with it a silk handkerchief which hung rather loosely about the neck of one of the men who was at work; it continued ascending till entirely out sight, and in about an hour it began to descend, and continued to so for an hour's space, alighting at, or within a few hundred yards of the place from whence it had been carried up, so that the owner lost but a very trifling quantity of his hay.' 

(Hereford Journal, 23 August 1781, p.2)

A Tragic Accident

The following melancholy tale from the Potteries is related in a letter dated August 14 1785. 'As Ellen Hulme, a poor woman of Lane End, was returning to her habitation late last night, with her infant, six weeks old, in her arm, she unfortunately stepped into a coal-pit, which shamefully lay open close to the road, and even with the track which led to the poor creature's house. Her husband, whom she had been to fetch from an alehouse, immediately alarmed the neighbourhood, when her distressing cries were very distinctly heard from the bottom of the dreary pit every effort was attempted by the hardy colliers to fetch her up, but the damp prevailing very much, obliged them to use means to extract it, after which was found the mother with her infant upon her arms, both dead.' 

(Sussex Advertiser, 22 August 1785, p.3) 

A Hard Winter

During the harsh winter of 1794-1795, the better off inhabitants of Hanley and Shelton formed a committee which started a subscription list for the temporary relief the poor who were suffering great hardship during the cold weather. By February 1795 the committee had collected an impressive £150, enough to enable them  to supply nearly 500 local families with meat, potatoes, and cheese. The Wedgwood family gave a liberal amount and through them a Mrs Crewe kindly added a welcome donation of a quantity of flannel clothing. The Marquis of Stafford aided the relief fund by ordering 100 tons of coal to be at the distribution of the committee. 

A month later, in an issue of the Staffordshire Advertiser that noted that thermometers in Macclesfield had measured temperatures as low as -21° F (-29.4° C), the fearsome nature of the winter was highlighted dramatically by one small but rather macabre snippet of news. 'Through the inclemency of the night of Saturday last [i.e.,14 March] a poor man perished betwixt Hanley and Bucknall. He unfortunately lost himself in attempting to cross the fields, and was found on Sunday standing upright in a snow drift, with his hand only above the surface.' 

(Staffordshire Advertiser, 7 February 1795, p.3; 21 March 1795, p.3.)

Wild Fire

In late March or early April 1799, a dreadful accident happened in a pit at Lane End, the property of John Smith, Esq. Four men were blown up, and two them terribly burnt by what the colliers of the time described as 'the wild fire'. The explosion was loud, and the concussion so great that nearby houses shook violently. Two of the men were not expected to recover, while the other two were thrown to a considerable distance, and left badly bruised. The reporter noted that their hats were blown to the distance of 70 yards from the mouth of the pit. 

(Staffordshire Advertiser, Saturday, 6 April 1799, p.4)

Up, Up and Away

Balloonist Charles Green later in life.

Charles Green was quite a celebrity when he arrived in the Potteries in early October 1826. A pioneer balloonist, five years earlier, Green had become famous almost overnight when he made a special ascent into the air in his coal gas filled balloon at George IV's coronation. Since then he had become a professional balloonist, touring the country giving displays and allowing a lucky few to take a ride up with him. Now that thrill was open to the people in North Staffordshire and to one lucky passenger would fall the chance to make local history by joining Green in the first ever flight over the district.

The first ascent was to take place from Shelton late in the afternoon of Tuesday, 3rd October 1826. 'A vast concourse of persons' had assembled according to a reporter for the Staffordshire Advertiser. A carnival atmosphere prevailed, a band had been arranged to keep the onlookers entertained and enclosures had been set up for paying guests. The most exclusive of these for 'the most respectable inhabitants' was rather thinly populated at first, but started to fill up after 3 p.m., allaying fears that Green would not be fully compensated for his visit to the area. Another cheaper enclosure was also pretty well filled. Most of the locals, though, opted for a free view, an immense number of whom were camped out in surrounding fields, streets and yards, perched on roofs or leaning out of windows.

The weather was cloudy but favourable despite a brief shower which dampened those waiting for the launch. Half an hour or so before the main event a small pilot balloon was released to check on the wind direction, Green then got to work preparing the large crimson and gold striped main balloon for its trip over the Potteries. There was at this point some anxiety as to who, if anyone, would accompany Green on his historic flight. Some days earlier a suitable companion had been selected, but who this was is a mystery as the man backed out shortly before the launch and it seemed very likely that Green may have to go up alone. Indeed, the celebrated balloonist had clambered into the basket or 'car' as it was then called and was making his final adjustments prior to lift off, when the band suddenly struck up the popular Irish melody 'Fly not yet' to get his attention. A last-minute replacement had been found, the Reverend Benjamin Vale, perpetual curate of Stoke-upon-Trent had volunteered to go.

Vale was not a local having been born in London in 1787 and despite his religious credentials he seems to have been a rather prickly and erratic character, who was prone to rubbing people up the wrong way. Years earlier he had gone to Australia in hopes of setting up a ministry, but had left under a cloud when in a fit of misplaced patriotism he had illegally seized an American ship in Sydney Harbour, much to the annoyance of the local governor who had cleared the ship and who promptly sent Vale packing back to Britain. The rebuked clergyman had then served in his native London for a time before securing his position in Stoke. Years later he would become the Rector of St James Church, Longton, but his flock never seemed to have warmed to him and in 1842 his home fell prey to an angry mob during the Pottery Riots. Yet, whatever his other faults, Vale does not seem to have lacked in physical courage and after briefly justifying his decision with his anxious friends, to the applause of the onlookers he eagerly stepped forward to join Mr Green for this first historic trip.

Vale's friends crowded around the car when the clergyman had taken his seat and expressed their wishes for a safe journey. The balloon was allowed to rise into the air to a considerable height above the gathered crowd, ropes still holding it secure while it did so. Here, Mr Green released some ballast and dropped a parachute over the side attached to a basket that carried a cat, which floated safely back down to earth. After a short while suspended thus probably to give the crowd a good view of the 'buoyant and splendid machine', it was drawn back down to earth, two flags were handed over which were fixed at either end of the car, the ropes were released and with the band playing and crowd applauding the balloon rose gracefully into the air. To those on the ground the balloon remained in sight for about twenty minutes before vanishing into a cloud for ten minutes, then reappearing briefly in the distance as a dark-coloured ball. The rest of the journey was instead charted by Reverend Vale who subsequently wrote an account of the historic flight, which was printed in the Staffordshire Advertiser several days later. Shorn of its evangelical asides, it makes for an interesting first aerial view of the Potteries.

'At four o'clock the flags were presented to us, and we left the earth; the wind blowing rather to the north and east, and the barometer standing at 29.4. I continued to answer the salutations from below as long as I could distinguish particular objects, and afterwards occupied myself in general observations with Mr. Green without feeling a particular sensation of any kind. By degrees, the objects on earth became so small, that the most extensive manufactories appeared like so many mole hills,and the people appeared like so many black and white specks. I could not but think how truly ridiculous it was for men of immortal minds to weary themselves unnecessarily, and strive with each other for the possession of such mud-heaps as the establishments on earth now appeared to be; and I looked about with great anxiety to observe that humble church preferment which I was so anxious to obtain, and which many were so anxious to confer on me. I looked, however, in vain – it had already mingled in the obscurity of distance, and nothing remained but a huge dark sod, with a mud-heap where Hanley stood, and another where Lane-End might be supposed to stand.

One of Charles Green's balloons in 1836

At five minutes past four, the barometer standing at 26.2, we entered a very thick cloud of a yellowish white colour; we were then little more than half a mile high, i.e. 58; the cloud had a  peculiarity of taste which I am not now able to describe, and the feel of it was somewhat soapy. Having now lost sight of the earth, we adjusted the ballast, put out the grappling iron, and properly fastened it; Mr. Green then untied the mouth of the balloon, and I looked up into it, which from the pureness of the gas appeared to be empty. Mr. Green left the mouth of the balloon open, that as the gas might expand, it might find itself a passage downward through the mouth. When Mr. Green observed the balloon to become fully distended, he opened the valve and let out some of the gas; and as this led to me making some remarks about the valve, he permitted me at proper times to open the valve myself. The first time I opened the valve I think I did it with some hesitation, but opportunities multiplied and I went about it at last as if it had been my business.

At ten minutes past four, we were as near over Blithe Marsh Bridge, beyond Lane End, and then gliding into another current of air, we drifted towards Cellar Head. We now had a good view of the clouds beneath us, layer on layer, the last layer appearing to rest in sullen silence upon the earth, while all the rest appeared to move, each layer seeming to be directed by a peculiar current of air.

At fifteen minutes past four, we approached Werrington windmill, which we saw directly, and at the same time we heard the halloo and greetings of persons who were too much diminished by distance to be observed by us. The barometer then stood at 24.2, and our distance was nearly a mile, i.e. 98.

At twenty minutes past four, we passed over Consol Woods, and heard several guns fired, and had a good view of the bleak and hilly country over which we were about to pass.

At thirty minutes past four, we threw out ballast to check the descent of the balloon, which Mr. Green considered too rapid. We now held out the flags, and it was evident that we were going downwards, as the flags were blown upwards. I looked earnestly towards the earth to discover the first appearances again. What appeared narrow straight lines hardly distinguishable, turned out the be the King's highways; what appeared to be a mushroom, turned out to be a hay-stack; and what appeared to be a solitary bush, turned out to be a plantation or a wood. We again heard voices, and a curious humming sound, which Mr. Green explained as being produced by a shower of very small rain falling on the balloon; a sound which in his earlier experience, had very much alarmed him. We then crossed Churnet River, and the Canal in the neighbourhood of Belmont House, and saw the reflection of the balloon in the water. The rain had now condensed the gas, and the lower part of the balloon collapsed.

At thirty-five minutes past four, we found ourselves descending over a woody district, and threw out ballast in order to pass over it. As we ascended, we got into another current of air, which drove us rather southerly, between Ipstones and Kingsley. Here it was somewhat cold. A voice was now heard distinctly crying out “Come down, come down.” Mr. Green answered “Not yet.” and I vociferated “Silence.”  and I have since learned that a good hostess understanding Mr. Green to say “yes, yes,” and supposing me to say “mistress,” little thinking that she did not appear to us bigger than a pin's head, went in and fetched out some brandy to regale us. The barometer now stood at 23.1 and our distance was about a mile i.e. 1.2.

At forty minutes past four, the barometer stood at 20.1, so that our elevation then, (which was our highest elevation) was a little above two miles, i.e. 2,047. Mr. Green thought it proper here to tie the mouth of the balloon to keep out the atmospheric air; and he mounted on the very edge of the car to accomplish it; as it was not possible for him even so to reach it, I hung upon a cord my whole weight to bring the mouth of the balloon low enough, and in this manner it was effected. I now heard the sound of a horn, and Mr. Green heard the sound of carriage wheels, so that we concluded some public coach was passing, and we stooped a little from our elevation to examine the ground for a descent.

At fifty minutes past four, a heavy storm came on, and we were obliged to hasten our descent. Nothing but stone walls appeared to greet us in this moorland country, and we both prepared for the worst that could happen to us. Having come down low enough for the grapple to touch the earth, we called to the first object we saw to come and render us assistance. Two men that appeared were unable to overtake us. The grapple caught on a wall and dragged an immense part of it to the ground. Again we swept the distance of a long field, and again the grapple caught on another wall which it served as it did the first. In this manner our velocity was checked, and other persons coming up, we made a safe landing, after having been in the air, as near as possible, an hour, and having passed over at least 25 miles.'         


Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser 7 October 1826, p.4 ; J H Y Briggs, ' A Staffordshire Clergyman: The Reverend Dr Benjamin Vale,  L.L.D. (1787-1863)' in Staffordshire Studies (Keele, 1987) pp. 141-153.