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The above forms are of my grandfather Bellamy's family as recorded in the Grimsby census returns of 1901 and 1911.
It was while I was a member of the Cardiff University Industry Centre (CUIC) helping put together a full-scale agricultural waste recycling system based on anaerobic digestion, that I bumped into a local historian, Ruth Downing, who as it eventually turned out, was related to me. She was the wife of Peter Downing who was joint owner with his brother John, of Walnut Tree Farm in the Suffolk villages of Chediston and Linstead, where, again, as it later turned out, were places where my mother's kin, the Kemps, had been 16th century house-builders. Life progresses as a series of unimaginable random social collisions. This particular jolt was the result of a geology student, Christopher Reynell, going to one of my Cardiff lectures by mistake. A discussion after the lecture with Christopher, from Suffolk. led to CUIC setting up a an anaerobic digester enterprise at Walnut Tree farm in association with Hamworthy Engineering via their Welsh owner, Powell Dyffryn.
Up until that time I had no interest in my family's history, except that as a child from time to time I had been intrigued by letters kept on the top shelf of the under-the-stairs cupboard, which referred to people by the name of Hunn who lived at a place called Flegg. Flegg is on the border of Suffolk and Norfolk.
Anyway, with Ruth's tireless help a detailed account of my mother's deep rooted connection with Suffolk was assembled. The outcome can be seen, together with a less-rich genealogical account of the Bellamys, who were also early immigrants to Suffolk, at:
I have no doubt that my family at that time was facing extreme poverty. To imagine what this meant we have to go to the well-known results of Charles Booth’s London social inquiry of 1886-9 and Seebohm Rowntree’s 1899-1900 study of York. Both surveys provided suggestively similar estimates of poverty.
Rowntree’s description of what merely physical efficiency meant leaves no room for doubt about the severity of his primary poverty standard:
A family living upon the scale allowed for in this estimate must never spend a penny on railway fare or omnibus. The must never go into the country unless they walk. They must never purchase a halfpenny newspaper or spend a penny to buy a ticket for a popular concert. They must write no letters to absent children, for they cannot afford to pay the postage. They must never contribute anything to their church or chapel, or give any help to a neighbour which costs money. They cannot save, nor can they join a sick club or Trade Union, because they cannot pay the necessary subscriptions. The children must have no pocket money for dolls, marbles or sweets. The father must smoke no tobacco, and must drink no beer. The mother must never buy any pretty clothes for herself or for her children, the character of the family wardrobe as for the family diet being governed by the regulation, “nothing must be bought but that which is absolutely necessary for the maintenance of physical health, and what is bought must be of the plainest and most economical description.” Should a child fall ill, it must be attended by the parish doctor; should it die, it must be buried by the parish. Finally, the wageearner must never be absent from his work for a single day.
From my father's accounts of his childhood in King Edward St I have no doubt that the Bellamys were living close to this standard.
King Edward St was a street of terraced housing which was part of a new development which began in the 1850s in marshland (the East Marsh) to the north of Grimsby's medieval town centre. It was situated in a corner between the river and the railway marshalling yards with its large maltings, and centred on the New Market (also called Central Market) at the junctions of King Edward Street North, Edward Street South and Market Street. Victoria Street North was a busy shopping centre with the main Post Office and some of the chief shops of the town; it was also a desirable residential area, close to the docks, for the merchants and others. Victoria Street was "Main Street"; Burgess Street "Middle Street"; and King Edward Street "Back Street" and they lived up to their reputations!
The following description of the New Market comes from the account of Jeff Beedham as he remembered it in the 1950s and his account is more or less how I remember it during the War, particularly the footbridge, where I used to go to look down on the shunting operations in the the vast marshalling yards.
"In 1856, girls and infants Church Day Schools were built and part-funded by Canon Ainslie.
"In 1870, a fine clock tower and drinking fountain were donated by Mr Edward Bannister, the local coal merchant, in his Mayoral year.
"The following year a long lattice steelwork footbridge with a wooden floor was built over the many railway lines to Newmarket Street. It was built by engineers Head Wrightson, who built the first Corporation Bridge. It was known locally as the "stepbridge". The open-air market stalls were supplied with gas lighting from a gas supply system beneath the market area.
"The market attracted a mix of shops to that area including Hartcliffes pawnbrokers.
"It was soon renamed Central Market and was situated adjacent to dense working class terrace housing that included Victoria Street, King Edward Street, Burgess Street, Upper and Lower Spring Street, Fotherby Street and Cressey Street.
"It was also a short walk across Corporation Bridge to the West Marsh conurbation.
"For its size, the area had a proliferation of public houses, including in Central Market the Liberal Club and the Buccaneer or Chapman's Hotel as it was known, after Joseph Chapman who owned it.
"Above the main entrance was a life-size statue of Sir Walter Raleigh. There was a local myth that at midnight Sir Walter would get down from his plinth, walk round the clock tower and then return to his plinth.
"Nearby was the notorious Victoria Music Hall in Burgess Street. It was owned by Mr Frederick W Hoffman, who regularly antagonised local magistrates with bawdy antics and drunken behaviour on the premises.
"After repeated harassment by the police, the hall mysteriously burnt down one night, coincidentally shortly after Mr Hoffman had renewed the insurance on the property.
"This community had its own mission church, St Barnabas, which was in King Edward Street North on the corner of Fotherby Street.
"The area prospered and in 1910 the number of shops had increased to include a workingmen's barber shop. This prosperity continued until after the Second World War when, in June 151, 142 houses in the area were declared unfit for human habitation. It was announced that all the slum houses in the area were to be demolished and turned over to light industry.
"I remember walking through Central Market in the 1950s to cross the stepbridge with my mother to go shopping in Freeman Street and seeing the houses in King Edward Street South being demolished.
"Walking across the stepbridge, the heady aroma of malted barley drifted from Sandars new maltings, which was next to the bridge.
"The Salvation Army had a hostel for the homeless in Market Street and I recall one gentleman resident in particular with long white hair and a long beard who would regularly walk down Corporation Road in all weathers, wearing a long brown overcoat tied with string, begging for stale cakes and fruit from the shops.
"He was extremely well-spoken and polite compared with some of the beggars today and was known to all the shopkeepers, especially the cake shops, who would keep stale cakes and bread for him.
"By the early 1960s, the clocktower and clock was demolished. The clock was purchased for £10 10s by the Louth and District Motorcycle Club at Cadwell Park, near Louth.
"New industrial and retail units had been built along Victoria Street and King Edward Street in the 1950s, including the new Clover Dairy where the fascinating bottling process could be watched through the large plate glass window facing Victoria Street.
"On the site of the old Globe Cinema and the Fountain public house, the modern showroom of Town Garage was built.
"They were the main stockists of Francis Barnett and James motorcycles. Greenberg's tailors and Merchant Navy outfitters premises were next door.
"Today, St Barnabas Church still remains, as a warehouse. The footbridge has been shortened as many of the railway lines have now been removed.
The old large Great Eastern goods depot has been divided into small industrial units and the large maltings have been demolished."
The following throws light on the King Edward St environment of my grandfather's time, as it was reflected in the 1880s through the life of James Peter Young, a curate in charge of the St Barnabas District. King Edward St was at the centre of the District when James Peter Young arrived in Grimsby in 1867. Very shortly after his arrival he took charge of the St. Barnabas district and taught regularly in the church schools. During the smallpox epidemic of 1871 he visited the sick extensively at home and in hospital, even helping to lay the dead in their coffins. One girl later recalled how when their faces were so swollen that they couid not see, "Mr Young used to put strawberries into our mouths and he never held his nose at the bad smell as some people did".
Because of his devotion he was presented with a set of study furniture "so that Mr. Young might come and live among us". Around this time he declined the offer of three incumbencies and a post in the wider Mission Field.
Within the St. Barnabas district he worked tirelessly and formed guilds for the community at which instruction was given. Efforts were also being made to build a district church. but at this time money was needed for the roof of the parish church. so it was l874 before the first St Barnabas church, the ''Tin Church". was erected in King Edward Street. He urged Robert Ainslie, the vicar of Grimsby to build a school acrosss the river in the West Marsh, which led to the Macaulay Street school and the foundation of the St. Paul's and St. Hugh's churches. Also at this time Peter Young was traveiling extensively to conduct Parochial Missions at places like Hull, Manchester, and Pill, near Bristol, to name only three .On the resignation of Robert Ainslie in 1879, he became Grimsby's vicar.
This commonplace experience of life in Grimsby's King Edward Street neighbourhood spilled over into my father's parsimonious attitudes towards spending money, which dominated his entire life. With no savings, it was encapsulated in his mantra:
"If we haven't got it and we are happy, we don't need it!"
Was my grandfather happy with his lot?
He was born in Market Deeping and migrated to Grimsby from a small agricultural hamlet called Parson's Drove on the borders of Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire, where he was an agricultural labourer.
In Grimsby his occupation was described in the 1901 census as coal heaver, which meant he was still a a manual labourer transfering Yorkshire coal from railway wagons into ships for export. Ten years later he was doing the same thing, but as a lighterman he was part of a system that fuelled the steam trawlers by ferrying the coal in 'lighters' to the berthed ships. He not only had to shovel the coal into the lighter but shovel it out when alongside the trawlers.
Later on, when he was too weak to shovel coal, he became a road sweeper, carrying in his pocket the silver crown coin pictured below; his savings, worth five shillings, just in case he was in need! It came from him to me via his youngest daughter Mary.
Some people are simply born in the wrong time. They are blessed with exactly the qualities required for success in a particular field; yet, tragically, they are born either too early or too late to achieve it. Michael Deacon, the TV critic of the Daily Telegraph, mused on this in relation to the vast wealth that can be earned from professional sport.
Football was invented in the 19th century. But think of the countless men born long before that time who were bursting with footballing talent, but didn't know it, and couldn't use it. They had the strength, the speed, the balance, the co-ordination, the agility; what they lacked was luck. Had they been born in 1985, they would be multimillionaires, thumping in hat-tricks at World cup. But instead, being born in 1856 like my grandfather, they became farmhands or chimney sweeps.
Then there are those who are born too late. There are men alive today who might once have made great swordsmen, or gladiators, or Viking oarsmen. But, denied their true calling by the callousness of Time, they are instead bouncers, or bailiffs, or binmen.
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