Cultural History of Technology

Hey everyone!  I’m posting this on behalf of Sarah Cotton, our Keeper of Contemporary Collecting:-

Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums has recently teamed up with researchers at Northumbria University to encourage new thinking and comment around important subjects, such as Britishness, migration, and culture in an industrial region.

Each week, for eight weeks, we’ll be blogging about a museum object and posing a question for you to respond to.  Please help us get the discussion going by adding your comments below, whatever comes to mind.  Later in the summer, your comments may be fed into a live debate where we hope you’ll have the opportunity to join academics and curators discussing the most popular topic.

The theme for this week is “Cultural history of technology” which I’ve chosen to represent with this 2010 ipad from our collection.

The lead designer for the ipad is Jonathan Ive, senior vice president of Design at Apple who studied at Newcastle Polytechnic in the 1980s.  The ipad is used by so many, for so many different reasons.  This piece of technology, along with smartphones, has had an enormous impact on the way people do things and communicate with each other in their personal and working lives.

My question is:

Has there ever been a period of time where technological advancement has had such a radical impact on every day life?

First World War stories: The Nurse’s Tale

My last blog looked at the exploits of George Cuthbertson, a marine engineer from South Shields. He and his fellow crew members on board the oil tanker ‘Sunik’ saved the vessel after she was torpedoed by a u-boat near Messina Harbour, Sicily. His story is unusual amongst our collections in that it gives us a glimpse of the War beyond the North East. It’s also a testimony to the courage shown by so many men during the First World War.

It shouldn’t be forgotten, though, that it wasn’t just men who were taken away from their families and the security of home. The War also had the same effect on one particular group of women – nurses. This was brought home to me following a recent donation to the Archives of the papers of the Briggs Family of Whitley Bay. This new collection is small in size but contains fascinating records of the War service of the solicitor Albert Briggs and his first wife, Annie Hamilton, who worked as a nurse during the First World War.

Annie Hamilton in uniform, taken in St Omer, France in August 1917 (TWAM ref. DF.BGS/4/2/1)

Annie Hamilton was born in Whitefield, near Manchester in 1889.  By 1911 she was working as a milliner in Lytham and training to be a nurse. During the First World War she served at Lord Derby Hospital, Warrington, Lancashire before moving in 1916 to the 3rd Northern General Hospital at Sheffield. The Briggs Family papers include a fascinating series of photographs relating to her time there and these images are available online in one of our new flickr sets.

Patients and staff on Ward 26, 3rd Northern General Hospital, Sheffield, December 1916 (TWAM ref. DF.BGS/4/6/3).

The photographs reflect the dedication and care that so many nurses showed in helping soldiers to recover from the devastating physical and mental scars inflicted by the War. The nurses didn’t just look after their bodies, they also cared for their minds, comforting and entertaining the soldiers as needed. There’s no better example of this than the photograph of the sisters and nurses dressed up to put on a Christmas performance at the Hospital for their boys.

Nurses in costume for a Christmas performance at the 3rd Northern General Hospital, Sheffield, December 1916 (TWAM ref. DF.BGS/4/7/3)

In 1917 Annie Hamilton seems to have moved from Ward 26 to the nearby Longshaw Lodge Convalescent Home for Wounded Soldiers, Grindleford. There are a number of great images taken there showing the nurses interacting with the patients. These convey a real sense that the nurses treated the men not just as patients, but as friends. It must have been a great comfort to many of the soldiers to feel this warmth and kindness after the harsh realities of life in the trenches.

Group of soldiers and nurses in the Chaplain's car, Longshaw Lodge Convalescent Home for Wounded Soldiers, Grindleford, June 1917 (TWAM ref. DF.BGS/4/9/6)

1917 saw more horrendous casualties for the British forces following the Third Battle of Ypres (Passcendale). At around this time Annie Hamilton was transferred to France to the 59th Northern General Hospital at St Omer. The Briggs collection includes images of soldiers she cared for at the Hospital, including this one of Driver Arthur Stansbury, who sent this card after his return to London thanking Nurse Hamilton “for a happy time while a patient in 59th General Hospital, St Omer, France”.

Postcard sent to Nurse Hamilton by Arthur Stansbury, March 1918 (TWAM ref. DF.BGS/4/12/4)

The collection also includes a remarkable autograph book kept by Annie Hamilton while she served at the 59th Northern General Hospital. The autograph book includes poems and drawings by various soldiers she nursed. Some of the cartoons reflect the humorous banter between nurses and patients.

Cartoon drawn by Sgt A. Peters, February 1918

Others, however, tell a much sadder story of the difficult emotions faced by some soldiers returning home on leave.

Cartoon drawn by Sgt A. Peters, February 1918 (DF.BGS/6)

These records have been catalogued and can be seen by visiting our searchroom as well as online.  A big thank you goes to the donor, who very kindly brought these documents down from Scotland. The Briggs collection is an exciting addition to the Archives and we’re delighted to be able to share it with the wider world.

Potshare Bowling – An almost forgotten sport of North East England

Potshare bowler dressed for bowling - in his underwear

Potshare bowler with his handlers. Stripping to your underwear seems to have been the norm for bowling contests.

We are just coming to the end of ‘Home and Away’, a Heritage Lottery funded exhibition and project looking at the history of North East Sport and the modern Olympics. One of the aims of Home and Away was to provide opportunities for people to learn about, and have a go at, historic sports including some that have now disappeared such as Potshare Bowling.

 

Potshare bowling was a hugely popular sport in the North East of England right through the 19th century. It was played mostly by coal miners and only in the North East of England. Thousands of people would travel from all over the area to watch and bet on the matches. (1)  As with rowing and other prominent sports of the time, gambling was an important factor in its popularity.

 

The aim was to throw a stone ball over a course, nominally ‘the mile’. ‘The mile’ varied in distance depending on where the match was taking place but on the Town Moor in Newcastle it was roughly 875 yards (800 metres). Two men would take it in turns to bowl with the first one to cross the finishing line being the winner. It was a bit like a very simple game of golf without the clubs or the holes. The bowler would be assisted by a man called a ‘trigger’ who would mark where the bowl stopped with a three foot long stick called a ‘trig’. The next throw would then be taken with the bowl being released when the bowler’s feet were astride the trig. Matches also took place on the Town Moor at Newbiggin, Blyth Links, on the sands at Hartlepool, and, it appears, on back roads and tracks all over the North East.

 

The origins of the potshare name are unclear. Most probably the ‘share’ part of the name refers to the entrance fees paid into the pot by bowlers when taking part in a knockout handicap competition. The winning bowler would take the lion’s share, or even all, of the ‘pot’ but there might also be cash prizes for other bowlers who performed well. The handicap system encouraged novices to risk their money in the hope that a generous handicap might enable them to beat stronger, more experienced bowlers.

 

I use the term ‘potshare’ because it has been commonly used in other pieces about bowling. However in a Newcastle Weekly Chronicle article of 2nd August 1884 and a subsequent exchange of letters over the next month, there is no mention of potshare: the sport is just called bowling or, in the vernacular, ‘booling’. All the correspondents have first hand knowledge of booling and had in the past made their own bools, but the word potshare is notable by its absence.  My suspicion is that the potshare name came to be used during the last throes of the sport around the time of the First World War and has since stuck.

 

James Renforth of Gateshead Champion Sculler of the World

Despite Renforth's natural strength and rowing training he failed to win his only public bowling contest in 1867

 

The rower James Renforth took part in a contest on Newcastle’s Town Moor for a £4 stake in December 1867. He was up against John King, who was favourite to win at 7 to 4 on. King took the lead in the first throw and beat Renforth by half a throw, perhaps 45 metres.

 

 

 

We were lucky enough to be able to borrow a potshare bowl to display in the exhibition, but very few visitors had heard of the sport and not one uttered the magic words ‘I’ve got one of those at home, would you like it for the museum?’ So when the exhibition was dismantled in January 2013 and the borrowed bowl went back to its owner, the museum was left with no objects connected with this historically significant sport.

 

From the start we had planned to get a pair of replica bowls made. The scarcity of historic bowls and the lack of knowledge of the sport among our visitors made the production of the potshare bowl replicas increasingly desirable. Research done by me and my colleague Alex Boyd in preparation for the exhibition gave us some parameters for the production of our replicas.

 

  • There was no standard size of bowl. Challenges were made in the Newcastle Daily Chronicle specifying the weight of the bowls to be used. Weights might vary from 5 to 50 ounces but weights between 15 and 30 ounces seem to have been most common.
  • The bowls were made from whinstone, more specifically dolerite, a very hard igneous rock used for road chippings and for making dry stone walls. It is not easy to build with and its hardness makes it difficult to work.
  • A fascinating article, ‘NEWCASTLE FIFTY YEARS AGO – XLV BOWLS – BOOLING – “CUDDY RACES” – KITTY-CAT – AND BUCKSTICK, and subsequent correspondence published in the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle in August 1884 describes how bowls – or ‘bools’ in the vernacular – had been made 50 years previously. It is clear from what was written that, by 1884, different methods of manufacture were in use. Consequently, when commissioning the replicas we didn’t feel bound to specify the use of the slow and laborious process described below.

“Men made their own bools out of whinstone by the aid of a small hammer and an old file. Afterwards the bool was submitted to a grinding process in a hole made in hard freestone (sandstone). The bool in course of grinding shaped the matrix. The operation was a slow and long one. ………… This resulted in mysterious round holes with concave cavities sunk into hard freestones about the stone fences and sides of houses that are frequently to be seen in and around pit villages.”

I found a source of whinstone fairly readily at Hanson Aggregates’ Keepershield Quarry, Humshaugh but soon discovered that the quarry mostly produced stone chippings for road building. The end product was created by first blasting the rock and then crushing it to size. There was no equipment on site to cut neat blocks of stone ready for carving, because whinstone is rarely carved. Nonetheless, after blasting but before the rock was crushed, it seemed it ought to be possible to select rough pieces of stone of about the correct size.

 

Buoyed up by the knowledge that I could get hold of the stone, I searched for a stonemasonry firm that would be willing to take on the job. David France Stonemasonry Ltd of Darlington were used to making ornamental stone balls, but unsurprisingly, given my experience at Keepershield Quarry, they didn’t work with whinstone. David France, a stone mason himself and the boss of the firm, was not sure how difficult it would be to carve a bowl from whin, nor how long it might take. Despite that uncertainty he was willing to give it a go, so we were able to proceed.

 

I worked out the approximate diameter of bowl we would want to represent the mid – range of weights used in most contests.

 

Density (P) = mass/volume (grams/cubic centimetre)

 

Volume (V) of a sphere = 4/3πr3

 

I weighed a small whinstone pebble I had picked up on the Northumberland Coast. It weighed 325 gms.

Measuring volume by displacement

Measuring volume by displacement - Measuring jug with whinstone pebble

Using a displacement method and a laboratory measuring jug half full of water I found that the volume of the pebble was approx 120 cc (cubic centimetres).

 

Measuring volume by displacement

Measuring volume by displacement - Measuring jug with whinstone pebble and displaced water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The approximate density could then be calculated.

325 ÷ 120 = 2.708 gms/cc.

A 25 oz bowl is a 708.75 gm bowl

A 25 oz whinstone bowl ought therefore to have a volume of 262 cc

The volume of a sphere is 4/3πr3 (where r is the radius)

For 25 oz:                   262 = 4/3πr3              r = 3.97 cm

d (diameter) = 7.94 cm

Looking at old photographs of bowlers that would seem to be about right, although I’m sure many of them would have had hands like shovels so it is not always easy to judge!

Potshare bowler dressed for bowling - in his underwear

Potshare bowler holding his bowl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I knew the approximate diameter of ball we wanted to make, David France was able to tell me what size of rock would be needed in order to make it. The pieces of stone needed to be approximately 20 cm x 15 cm x 15 cm. David also told me that the stone would be prone to fracture as a result of the blasting. He suggested that I collect as many pieces of whin as I could to allow for the discarding of stone that had hidden fractures.

Quarry manager Peter Scott selecting pieces of whinstone

Quarry manager Peter Scott selecting pieces of whinstone

I drove out to Keepershield Quarry where Peter Scott, the manager, took me to the pile of blasted rock and help me select six likely pieces of stone. My assumption is that, in the past, pitmen made their bowls from whin dug or blasted out as waste material during coal mining operations, so their raw material was probably acquired for nothing. Peter kindly supplied our stone under the same conditions!

Whinstone picked off the pile after blasting.

Whinstone picked off the pile after blasting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s how the bowls were made by the stonemason:

A diamond core drill being used to cut a cylinder of whinstone

A diamond core drill being used to cut a cylinder of whinstone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A diamond core drill was used to cut out a cylinder a little greater in diameter than the final bowl.

Whinstone cylinder and the rock from which it was cut

Whinstone cylinder and the rock from which it was cut

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cylinder was then reduced in size with a saw to create a cylinder of the same diameter as the final bowl.

Whinstone cylinder with diameter reducing process under way.

Whinstone cylinder with diameter reducing process under way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whinstone cylinder ready for carving

The whinstone cylinder ready for carving

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally the cylinder was carved into a ball by the stonemason using a mallet and chisel. Masons usually work wearing safety glasses but in this case the flying chips of whin were so hard and sharp that the mason had to wear a full face mask!

Half a bowl carved

Half a bowl carved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The (wet) finished bowl

The (wet) finished bowl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The finished bowls had a diameter of 8 cm, and weighed 845 gms (approximately 30 ounces). The 30 oz weight is towards the upper end of the normal range but 25 to 30 ounces was a typical weight of bowl for contests in the 1830s and 1840s.

Extract from the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle of 2nd August 1884

Extract from the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle of 2nd August 1884 describing how bowls had been made in the 1830s and 1840s.

 

Replica potshare bowl TWCMS : 2013.498.

Replica potshare bowl TWCMS : 2013.498.1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Completed bowl with fracture

Completed bowl with fracture. The fracture was only revealed near the end of the process so David France kindly supplied it as an extra on top of the matched pair. This bowl is now in a North East Sport loans box and will go out for use as a handling object in schools

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are now part of the museum collection – well recorded as 2013 replicas to avoid any confusion in the future!

 

As ever, some questions remain:

 

When was the term ‘potshare’ first used as a name for this very particular form of bowling?

Is there material evidence surviving of bowl making in the pit villages of Northumberland and Durham? This would take the form of mysterious ‘concave cavities’ in sandstone walls, or the sandstone walls of houses, created by grinding a roughly shaped whinstone bowl against the sandstone.

 

Reference.

 

1.         ‘Potshare bowling’ in the mining communities of east Northumberland 1800 – 1914. by Alan Metcalfe. P29 – 44 in “Sport and the Working Class in modern Britain”, edited by Richard Holt. Manchester University Press 1990. Alan Metcalfe’s paper was used extensively in the preparation of this blog.

 

Behind the Scenes at the Regional Museums Store

My mother recently acquired a full-size potter’s wheel. Making a mockery of the laws of physics she managed to get it into the back of her car and drive it home. The unstoppable mantra of the shopaholics ‘I love it. I want it. I love it. I want it,’ must have been playing over and over in her head as it was only when she pulled up onto the drive and stopped the car that a more practical thought surfaced, ‘Where am I going to put it?’

This same conundrum is regularly faced by museum curators. There are just so many wonderful objects out there, objects steeped in the history of our region, objects that just need some TLC and a good home. How could we in good conscience turn them away?

Our galleries are expertly laid out so you can peruse a small selection of objects that help to communicate the ideas, culture, beliefs and lifestyle of a particular moment in history. But behind the scenes it’s a slightly different story.

Objects at the Regional Museums Store

Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums has over 450,000 objects in its collection, from teeny tiny shells weighing no more than a grain of rice to locomotive engines that weigh up to 100 tonnes. Understandably, it’s the Maritime and Science and Industry departments that look after some of the heftier items in the collection.

There’s Turbinia, of course.  Over 30 metres long she has pride of place in Discovery’s entrance hall and is unlikely to be getting a change of scenery any time soon. We also have in our collection various full size boats, motor cars, Weighton’s epic Triple Expansion Steam Engine, and the monstrous Doxford Marine Oil Engine. Add to this a whole host of generators, motors, ship parts and turbines and you start to get the picture.

Doxford Engine

Quite simply folks, we’re chock-a-block.

The museum is bursting at the seams. We don’t even have an office anymore; we just perch on piles of railway sleepers in the basement typing up documents on mechanical typewriters and making photocopies using an 18th century printing press. We had to set up one of our full steam turbine systems just to generate the electricity to put the kettle on…

I’m kidding, of course. But the bleak scene I’ve just created for you could be a reality if it wasn’t for our off-site storage facility, the Regional Museums Store at Beamish!

The RMS is our newest and largest storage facility with huge rows of heavy duty racking and lots of floor space for our giant objects. As part of our current project to improve access to the collection in the basement of theDiscoveryMuseum, we have been moving some objects over to the RMS. I like to think taking them there is a bit like sending them home. We try to organise the store so all of the washing machines are together, all of the engines, all of the models, just so they can, you know, catch up.

Storage at the Regional Museums Store

I described moving objects around in our basement store as a very heavy game of 3D Tetris. Well, moving objects around on heavy duty racking is the same except with the added dimension of height. Throw height in the mix and you need an even more impressive array of specialist equipment, which gives us a nice excuse to gleefully fly around the place on fork lift trucks and scissor lifts.

It’s not fair of us to keep this fantastic storage space and all the treasures therein to ourselves, so we’re currently working on a plan to open this space up to visitors. At present you can arrange an appointment to gaze upon the objects of your desire for a designated period of time, but in future we’d like to organise more regular access. Stay tuned to the TWAM blog for future developments.

 

 

What’s the story?! Ralph Hedley’s painting Go, and God’s will be done! (1891)

There’s a big drama going on in this painting – Go, and God’s will be done! The cat on the left is sleeping peacefully in front of a fire, while behind her is a scene of wild activity.

This great melodrama is hard to follow unless you’ve got some background.

Go, and God’s will be done! illustrates a poem The lifeboat, by George Roberts Simms’s, which was published in The Lifeboat and other poems in 1883. The poem was quoted in the exhibition catalogues when Ralph Hedley exhibited the painting  in 1891 and 1892, in Newcastle, Liverpool, Leeds, and South Shields, and in the Royal Academy.

It shows a dramatic moment when a life-boatman is summoned to a wreck that can (just) be seen out of the open door.

I didn’t move, but pointed to the white face on the bed-

“I can’t go, mate,” I murmured; “in an hour she may be dead,

I cannot go and leave her to die in the night alone.”

As I spoke Ben raised the lantern, and the light on my wife was thrown;

And I saw her eyes fix strangely with a pleading look on me,

While a tremblin’ finger pointed through the door to the ragin’ sea,

Then she beckoned me near and whispered “Go, and God’s will be done!

For every lad on that ship, John, is some poor mother‘s son”.

The painter was the Newcastle artist Ralph Hedley. He had been criticised a year before for being un-poetic, and this painting was meant to silence his critics.

The painting is now in the collection at Harris Museum and Art Gallery, Preston, and a group of volunteers at the Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle, have fond sketches for the painting among records given to the gallery by Ralph Hedley’s descendent Julian Brown.

There are sketches in two of Ralph Hedley’s sketchbooks. The first sketch shows an early idea for the composition, with the bed seen from the bottom rather that the top end.

Another sketchbook has four pages of studies for the woman in the bed –

– this double page of studies for the figure and the bed covers – and these two sketches.

 

 

 

 

 

In his autobiography George Sims tells how his friends teased him about his poem.

In a Drury Lane drama by my friend and collaborator, Henry Pettitt, one of the characters was always endeavouring to recite “The Lifeboat,” and being sternly suppressed by everybody within hearing distance.

“I will now recite ‘The Lifeboat,’” was his gag wheeze, and the usual reply was “Oh, ‘The Lifeboat’ be hanged!”

The gentleman who wished “The Lifeboat” that fate had his wish gratified. “The Lifeboat” was hanged, or rather hung. A well-known painter selected it as the subject of his Academy picture, and it was hung – on the line.

Hung ‘on the line’ – means that a picture is hung at eye level – not hung too high (skyed) or too low (floored).

The story of The Lifeboat ended happily. The husband went with the lifeboat and helped to save the crew of the wrecked ship. One of them was his long-lost son, and when took him home, his mother was overjoyed and recovered from her illness.