THE REPROBATE
The following story is semi-fictional biography of John Roberts.
“OUT OF THE DEPTHS!”(1)
By
John Roberts
(Being a record of my life from the time of the Great Depression of l929, to the present time.)
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CHAPTER 1
ORIGINS
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My family was of British working-class origin. George (my father), then 5 years of age and Edward Roberts(Ted), 3 years, his younger brother, were brought up as Orphans, following the death of their mother in 1900: a year or so after she returned from Singapore, where she had visited her dying father, in late l897. Her husband, Owen Roberts, had been Provost Sergeant, with the 2nd Lincolnshire Regiment, but was discharged, on 15 June 1896, following his demotion for drunkenness.
It appears that Owen abandoned his wife and children following his dismissal from the Army, The boys spent their early childhood at the Hawarden Orphanage in North Wales: conducted by Lady Gladstone, widow of William Gladstone, former Prime Minister of Great Britain. George eventually arrived in Salford Lancashire, at the age of 14 years, or thereabouts, where, some years later, he married Elizabeth Jones, my mother. She was the daughter of a small Ironmonger, John Jones; a God-fearing and serious man.
Reference (1): Psalm 130
CHAPTER 2
SALFORD
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The mass of the British Labouring Classes, during the latter half of the Nineteenth Century, worked long hours, usually from 6am to 6pm, throughout the six days of each working week. The Protestant Ethic, however, protected the labourers from total exploitation, by providing that the Seventh Day should remain sacred: a day of dedication to the service of The Lord. In addition, workers usually had a week’s holiday each year, in which they were free to enjoy themselves, as they saw fit. These holiday periods were known as “Wakes” in the mill Towns of Lancashire and Yorkshire. At such times, the local Mill would close, to enable maintenance to be carried-out on machinery. Lancashire workers would entrain in their hundreds, for such holiday resorts as Blackpool, Southport or Fleetwood. The more adventurous spirits might even venture to such mysterious and intriguing destinations as the Isle of Man or even as far as Scarborough, on the North-Yorkshire coast.
The Jones’ family, although privileged to some degree, in the sense that the father was self-employed, was still required to exercise a measure of self-discipline: the demands of trade insisting on the maintenance of proper standards. Thus the mother was kept busy in the shop, in addition to her household duties, whilst her husband occupied himself in his workshop, in the manufacture of furniture, both for personal use and for sale.
Below is a photo of Grandfather John Jones, aged about 82 yrs.
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On Sundays, John permitted neither himself nor the members of his family any personal indulgence. This day was largely devoted to attendance at Mission Services, which were held morning, afternoon and evening. Fortunately, the chapel was conveniently close at hand. Much of the domestic work was completed on Saturdays, leaving the mother, Mary Jones (nee: Mason), free to devote Sundays, after Chapel, to the preparation of meals.
There were three older boys born to John and Mary, prior to Elizabeth,(b 1888): These were John, Frank and Harry. Five other children were born to the family after Lizzie Jones. These were, Mary Ann (l891 to 1894), Frederick (1894-l911), Thomas (1896) who lived only six weeks, William (1897-1961) and Harold in l901, the last of the brood. He died of a heart attack at age 60 years.
As Lizzie grew older, she began to find herself in the common position of many women, who grow up as a single girl in a family of boys. Much of the domestic work was thrust upon her, as well as the requirement to assist her parents in the shop. Her problems were compounded by the death of her mother in l910, which left Lizzie with a heavy burden of care for her father and brothers. She was a small woman, only 5ft 2” in height, with dark, almost black hair: rather plain features and an olive complexion. Being short-sighted, she wore pince-nez spectacles. In the drab working-class garments of pre-l914 England, she could not have been regarded as an attractive woman. There was little prospect of Lizzie making a successful match in the romantic stakes. I show a photo of Lizzie, with myself and Margery, aged approx. 4 yrs, below. The scene is the Western-end of Lord Duncan Street, outside the Hardware shop. Grandfather is also in the background:
The shop itself was of a genre that has now all but disappeared from the English business scene. The premises consisted of one room, about 15 feet square, into which was jammed a motley collection of Ironware, Earthenware, Crockery, Brushes, Mops, Screws, Nails etc., which made up the stock-in-trade of the Ironmonger. The entrance was by way of a door, set at an angle in the corner of the building, being the original entrance to the taproom, when the premises had been conducted as a Public House. A bell, fixed above the door and activated by a metal strip screwed to the door itself, proclaimed the presence of customers, whenever anyone came into the shop. On the window, fronting Lord Duncan Street, were inscribed in gold-leaf the words, “John Jones, Ironmonger”. During the hours of daylight, on either side of the door, were suspended pans and cooking utensils of various kinds. On the narrow glass panels of the door itself were pasted advertisements for Sankey’s Soap, Reckitt’s Blue, and other familiar laundry aids of Yester-year.
To the rear, a counter ran the length of the shop: behind which stood the person in attendance upon potential customers. Much of the trade was in Paraffin Oil (Kerosene), for which there was a great demand, before the widespread use of Gas or Electric Cooking and in things like tu’penny cups, clothes-pegs, etc.. There was not a great deal of money to be made in premises of this nature. The general penury of the neighbourhood also ensured that substantial profits were not to be garnered there.
Manchester was still growing, with long rows of cheap terraced cottages: spreading out two or three miles from the centre of the City. Eventually, its boundaries would merge with those of many of the smaller Lancashire and Cheshire towns, to form what, at that time, constituted the greatest concentration of population on Earth. Salford, itself, once the “Saxon Hundred” or “Wapentake” of Salford, had been mentioned in the Domesday Book of William the Conqueror, but was now reduced to the status of a mere satellite of Manchester.
This, then, is the background to our story: a background certainly drab and in many respects forbidding. However, it was an environment in which there flourished a great sense of Community: a desire on the part of a large proportion of the people to live in accordance with the Law and to do no harm to any man or woman. Superimposed upon the harsh physical realities of life, was the sure and certain conviction of the superintending influence of the “Divine”. This factor, more than any other, influenced the lives of rich and poor alike. It essentially proclaimed that “God” is the sole arbiter of human happiness and all things are subject to His control.
It mattered not that there were various religious denominations, all proclaiming that they held the key to Salvation. What was important was that people generally realized that they themselves were responsible for the consequences of their own conduct. Ideas might have varied, relative to the nature of the “future state”, if there is, indeed, to be such a thing. But the majority of people accepted the certainty of Divine Superintendence of the affairs of Mankind. This led to a greater sense of personal responsibility, in the awareness of the fact that our conduct is subject to the scrutiny of God: to whom we must all answer for the consequences of our own activity.
The population of Salford was composed of a people of diverse origin, mixing the remaining Celtic inhabitants of Lancashire with Saxons, Welsh, Scots and Irish, whose individual characteristics had combined to produce a person at once intelligent, contemplative, democratic, rough and humorous. Perhaps there was a nucleus of individuals, whose ancestors had tilled the soil of the Saxon Hundred of Salford, generations ago; but they must have been few in number. There were many people from Ireland: the overflow from Liverpool: drawn to Manchester by the prospect of employment in the Cotton Industry. Many, like John Jones, had come from the Welsh Border Country or from Wales itself, to seek a share of the prosperity now beckoning from the industrial North.
The common experience of poverty, in towns like Salford, drew people together, who would otherwise have kept to themselves. Whilst grouping into religious divisions became the norm, within each community there were people who were prepared to assist those who were less fortunate than themselves. The principle of “sharing” became established in the life of each neighbourhood. The Communal ties of the Mill, in which each person developed close, and scarcely comprehended, bonds with his or her fellows, led to a real sense of mutual interdependence. Individual families lived in close proximity to one another for generations and developed a relationship, more akin to the blood-tie than to merely social grouping. Thus, in spite of poverty, there were formed bonds of friendship surpassing by far the casual indifference of more comfortable souls who, in more prosperous circumstances, may, perhaps, condescend to nod their heads to their neighbours, from time to time. The people of Lancashire developed the capacity to care-for and consider their fellows. The easy-going and democratic notions of the Irish, found a fruitful soil in which to spread in Salford, resulting in a capacity for humour and good-fellowship, which is part of the make-up of the Salford man or woman or,indeed, of Lancashire people in general.
The musical influence of the Welsh produced Choirs and Choral Societies, which were well-supported in all the towns of Lancashire. Brass Bands were to be found in every town and were a common feature of open-air entertainment in the parklands of the North. This love of music is also, perhaps, part of the original Celtic legacy of Lancashire.
The Lancashireman may, in some respects, be a little too easy-going and good-humoured, but these are admirable traits. He is also a spendthrift and careless about money; in contrast to the Scandinavian Yorkshireman, just over the Pennines, who husbands his financial resources as carefully as the Scot.