A Whale of a Newcastle Tale – by Jo Anderson, Assistant Keeper of Archaeology

Our ethnographic collection has originated from many different sources.  Explorers, missionaries, other museums – we’ve been accepting interesting objects from around the world for centuries.  During my time researching the North American collection, I’ve discovered that some of the objects from Arctic regions have a direct link with an industry that Newcastle upon Tyne used to be famous for: whaling.

Nowadays, commercial whaling is banned by many countries including the UK, but 250 years ago, whaling in Arctic waters was big business.  Whales were hunted in vast numbers mainly for their oil which was used in a variety of products at the time and was highly valued as an illuminant.  Newcastle was a focal point for whaling activity in the northeast of England, often rivalling the great whaling port of Whitby.  Even when British whaling began to decline in the 1820s, Newcastle still had a fleet of whaling ships that would venture to the Arctic waters near Greenland- sometimes returning back to the River Tyne with some very interesting souvenirs that they had traded for with the local Inuit.

Whalers Entering the Tyne by John Wilson Carmichael. Credit: Torre Abbey Museum

The Lady Jane was a 313 ton ship originally built on the Thames in 1722.  By 1804 she was Newcastle-based and became a highly successful whaler.  In 1827, the Literary & Philosophical Society of Newcastle upon Tyne was given three objects that had been brought back from arctic waters on the Lady Jane by its commander, Captain Fleming.

 

NEWHM : G116, oil scoop

NEWHM : G115, adze

NEWHM : 1998.H250, lamp

 

 

 

 

 

These implements gave the people of Newcastle a rare glimpse into Inuit life.  The adze in particular is of interest, due its metal content. Iron was rare in the northern Arctic regions, but Inuit would salvage any kind of metal from shipwrecks, which is what appears to have happened with the adze.  It is thought to have been made using the mast hoops from the Aurora or Dexterity – ships that were wrecked on the west coast of the Davis Straits in 1821.

The Lady Jane appears in museum records once again 10 years later.  In 1837, Captain James Leask donated a full size Inuit kayak complete with oar, hunting implements and a sealskin float.

Captain Leask’s kayak and hunting equipment on display in the World Cultures gallery.

 

They are wonderful objects and enable us to see first-hand the high degree of skill needed by Inuit to create vital pieces of hunting equipment.  While they are remarkable historical artefacts, the fateful story of their collection is somewhat harrowing.  The Lady Jane had set sail in 1835, but by December the ship was frozen in sea ice near Greenland.  The ship finally returned to Newcastle in March 1836, by which time 27 of the crew had died from scurvy and other illnesses. The deprivations the ship’s crew underwent during that winter was dreadful.  James Williamson from South Shields was a young doctor on board during this time, and his journal notes many harrowing experiences.  On his return to Newcastle, Captain Leask was accused of incompetence by his surviving crew.  Although a public enquiry was conducted into the disaster, Captain James Leask was completely exonerated of all charges.

Another famous Newcastle whaling ship also appears in museum records.  The Lord Gambier was brought into the whaling trade in 1831.  At 407 tonnes, she was an even bigger vessel than the Lady Jane.  Captain Richard Warham was commander of the Lord Gambier and he brought back many artefacts and specimens from his voyages to the Arctic, including a beautiful Inuit seal skin shoe, and more famously Eric the Polar Bear.

Captain Richard Warham. Credit: NHSN

 

NEWHM : M0934, Polar Bear on display in Living Planet gallery.  Shot by a crew member of the Lord Gambier in the Davis Straits, off Greenland, 1835

NEWHM : G111, Inuit shoe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the early 1840s, the whaling industry was in serious decline on Tyneside.  The market for whale oil was decreasing and there had been too many disasters in Arctic waters where ships had been crushed by sea ice.  Combined with a dramatic fall in whale numbers around Greenland, it meant that too many voyages were unproductive, forcing ship-owners to review their trade.  By 1842, the Lord Gambier had been withdrawn from whaling activities along with another Tyneside-based whaler, the Grenville Bay, leaving the Lady Jane as the only active whaling vessel operating from Newcastle.  She was destroyed in 1849, crushed by sea ice on her final whaling voyage.

The Lord Gambier, Lady Jane and Grenville Bay whaling in the Arctic, by John Wilson Carmichael

 

The Inuit material that whaling ships brought back to Newcastle are powerful historical objects, offering us an insight into a way of life that existed 200 years ago for the peoples of the Arctic regions.  Little could the Tyneside whalermen know all those years ago that the “souvenirs” of their voyages would be so important and highly regarded in the 21st century.

 

 

This research was made possible by a Headley Fellowship

Reflecting on the present through the past – by Rose Bibby, placement student

Folk songs often tell the stories of everyday people. They expose counter narratives to accepted history and allow personal connections to be made across time, age and class. I have been involved in folk traditions my whole life; the stories of industry, war and the hardiness of the people of the North-East that I have listened to through my involvement in the UOSH project fit in perfectly with the narratives I hear so often in traditional songs. While I already knew of the immense change that had occurred between 1900 and 2000, these recordings highlighted how this change affected everyday lives – from the difference in schooling and technology, the effect of rationing and bombing in the North-East during WW2, to the development in attitudes toward married women working.

Rose listening to an oral history recording from the TWAM collection

In reflecting on my own position in life, listening to these oral histories emphasised to me how little I knew about my parent’s or grandparent’s lives before I was born. I knew of their occupations and I knew broadly of their family life but that was all. In hearing stories of caning in schools, I wondered if my father, born in 1949, had experienced this. He told me he had. And it was accepted as normal. I reflected on my own schooling, thinking particularly of one teacher who terrified the younger students and I wondered how much worse it would have been if he had been allowed to cane them. I listened to the story of a woman who, at 17, moved from Pakistan to England and was made to work for her mother-in-law and given little freedom. Consequently, I reflected on things my mother had told me about sneaking out of her room as a teenager to go out with friends. And considered the freedom she then gave me as I was growing up. Listening to this woman discuss the breakdown of her marriage and having to learn, as an adult, to do everything independently is another example of the resilience of previous generations which shines through in these recordings. Despite the hardships of these people, their enjoyment of life is also evident.

Grand Parade passing along Scotswood Road, celebrating the Centenary of the Blaydon Races, 9 June 1962. TWAM ref. DS.VA/9/PH/3/8

On hearing how another man moved to Newcastle and set up his work in the Ouseburn valley (an area I have come to know and love), the change from industry to arts in the area was highlighted and I began to reflect on what change has occurred in Newcastle in the time I have lived here. Regeneration has been a key topic of conversation in many of these recordings – some focusing positively on the development of previous industrial sites and others negatively on building for profit without the consideration of local communities. Despite only living here since 2015, I have seen the rapid development and building of student accommodation and the opening of new pubs, restaurants, cafes and art spaces (some of which make use of old industrial spaces). These recordings and my own experience illustrate how rapidly cities can change and make me wonder what change will come in the next 100 years.

This wall of luggage labels can be found in the Destination Tyneside gallery in Discovery Museum and highlight some of the individuals who have made Tyneside their home.

These sound recordings don’t just tell the story of the North-East, they tell the story of people from varied backgrounds who have all come to see this area of the world as their home. They consistently emphasise the friendliness of the people of the North-East, something I have experienced so often in the nearly 4 years I have lived in Newcastle. They highlight the importance of community – from the friendships women made as war workers to the rallying of residents in fighting government plans to demolish their housing estate. Most importantly, these recordings can highlight all these aspects within the lives of listeners. They can inspire and motivate, make you grateful for what you have and determined to fight for what you don’t. I have loved listening to these recordings and am happy knowing that my work in cataloguing them brings them a step closer to being accessible online. The work that is being done on the Unlocking Our Sound Heritage project will allow many others to learn about the North-East’s past through the eyes of everyday people, to reflect on the present through this past and, hopefully, to love listening to them as much as I did.

Making micante sheets (1914 – 18). This image is from the Parsons’ ‘Women Labourers’ photograph album, taken at Parsons’ Works on Shields Road during the First World War. TWAM ref: 2402.

Rose was a placement student in the summer of 2019. If you are interested in undertaking a placement with the Unlocking Our Sound Heritage Project, we have availability throughout the year. Please register your interest at volunteering@twmuseums.org

Unlocking Our Sound Heritage is funded by a grant from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, as well as generous funding from charities and individuals. The project is led by the British Library. To read more please see https://twarchives.org.uk/unlocking-our-sound-heritage

                     

 

 

                                   

The New Naturalists – A Guest Post by Brian Allen

Hello, My name is Brian Allen and I am a Volunteer at the Great
North Museum: Hancock Library.

When you visit the Great North Museum: Hancock allow time to
discover the library if you have not already done so.  It is not exactly a secret but it is not as
well-known as it deserves to be. Here are collections belonging to the Natural
History Society of Northumbria (NHSN) as well as the Society of Antiquaries of
Newcastle upon Tyne and the Cowen Collection of Newcastle University’s School
of History, Classics and Archaeology.

On your first visit it is probably best to take the lift to the second floor and there is the library immediately on your left!  Step inside and one of the most eye catching sections is soon to be seen on your right.  It is the complete set of the Collins New Naturalist Series with their outstanding dust jackets.

Collins New Naturalist Series

The New Naturalist series is published by Collins on a variety of natural history topics relevant to the British Isles. The aim of the series at the start was “to interest the general reader in the wild life of Britain by recapturing the inquiring spirit of the old naturalists.” This highly prized collection began being published in 1945 when the first in the series was E. B. Ford’s “Butterflies”. The most recent addition, “Gulls” by John C Coulson, was published in April this year as number 139 in the series. The complete set including twenty two monographs are for reference only and can be enjoyed in the library by everyone.  There are some duplicate copies available for members of the Natural History Society of Northumbria to borrow on presentation of their membership card. 

From the outset the editors believed that the British public’s natural
pride in our native fauna and flora, as well as concern for conservation, would
be best fostered by presenting the results of modern scientific research with a
consistently high standard of accuracy and clarity.

The Old Naturalists

The new naturalists were and are experts in their chosen field and mainly scientists but who were the old naturalists and what remains of their observations and writings?

You might think of Gilbert White and his “The Natural History of Selborne” (in east Hampshire) as an example of an old naturalist in this context.  However, there are many examples more local to our region.  Northumberland was the first county to be covered in the  New Naturalist  series when local naturalist Angus Lunn’s book was published in 2004.  The editor’s preface refers to some of the region’s old naturalists including the 16th century William Turner, the 18th century John Wallis, Nathaniel Winch and Thomas Bewick both spanning the 18th and 19th centuries, Prideaux John Selby and John Hancock both of the 19th century, and Abel Chapman and George Bolam spanning the 19th and 20th centuries.   The NHSN has some fine examples of the work of these “old” naturalists in the library’s valuable restricted access collection and archives available to readers on request. I will be working on a future blog about this topic.

All the old naturalists cited above are men. Out of nearly 200
New Naturalist authors and co-authors only 7, that is less than 4%, are women.

Topics covered by the New Naturalist Series

A wide range of topics dealing with large groups of animals and plants have already been covered in this globally significant series.  Sitting alongside it, or more accurately in our library beneath it is the smaller monograph series which focuses on an individual species or group of species, mainly but not exclusively birds. In the editors’ preface to a 1952 monograph they write “An object of the New Naturalist series is the recognition of the many-sidedness of British natural history, and the encouragement of unusual and original developments of its forgotten or neglected facets.” There have been no additions to the Monographs since 1971.

Art work dust jackets

One distinctive feature that makes this collection so attractive is the design of the dust jackets. For many years these distinctive designs were created by a couple, Clifford and Rosemary Ellis identified in their work as C & R E. They used offset lithography, a technique in which they were very skilled. Their designs were regarded as works of art in their own right so experienced art printers were employed rather than the House of Collins despite it being a printer as well as a publisher.

Clifford and Rosemary Ellis Book Jacket

 Later designs from 1985 are by Robert Gillmor, known to many for his characteristic bird illustrations.  He too worked closely with experienced art printers initially using much the same technique as C & R E had.  He changed later to using linocuts to increase the colours’ vibrancy. Eventually the printers wanted “camera ready artwork” and the printing took place in Thailand.  No longer could the artist work with the printers to the same effect.

Robert Gillmor first experienced the changes in 2004 with the design for Angus Lunn’s Northumberland (Number 95 in the series).  He describes the experience in “The Art of the New Naturalists” (Marren & Gillmor, Collins 2009) when the county outline was misplaced by 4mm to the right leaving a line cutting through the seal’s head, covering some of the wing of the butterfly and obliterating the head of a blackcock.  He was not happy!  He had already revised his design to reduce the number of birds featured which meant removing a prominent image of a ring ouzel.  The final version is designed to show the diverse features of the county’s landscape, with its flora and fauna all connected by the outline of the county. My own paperback copy has a photograph of a rural landscape without any fauna on its cover!

Angus Lunn’s “Northumberland”

The series continues to be published with forthcoming titles to include “Garden Birds” and “Pembrokeshire”. It will be interesting to see just how the 75th anniversary of this unique series will be marked in 2020.  What might the topics be and will there be more women naturalists amongst the authors?

There is an increasing sense of crisis amongst conservationists
and naturalists given the impact of climate change on the planet and all its
inhabitants.  David Attenborough, amongst
others, has highlighted the pressing issues. Extinction Rebellion is a growing
movement globally and the sixteen year old Swedish school student, Greta
Thunberg, has been powerfully prominent and eloquent on the international
stage, too.  Will a newer breed yet of
New Naturalists, female and male, emerge in this climate?  

The Great North Museum: Hancock Library is free to use and is open to everyone. It is located on the second floor of the Museum. Further information can be found at https://greatnorthmuseum.org.uk/collections/library-and-archives

Real life doesn’t always sound as it should – by Kristina Holmberg

Unlocking Our Sound Heritage – from a placement student’s point of view

“Real life doesn’t always sound as it should”
(Roshani Chokshi, Aru Shah and the End of Time)

We are so used to being told stories. Even real life is turned into tales of heroes and villains and happy or sad endings through books, films and lyrics. Oral history traditions are often associated with sitting around a campfire at night entertaining, scaring and inspiring each other. Sound in all shapes and forms are part of our intangible heritage, and in its honour the British Library is currently leading a nationwide project, ‘Unlocking Our Sound Heritage’. Through musical performances, literature and poetry to wildlife sounds, oral histories and more, we are allowed front row seats to first-hand information on historical events. For the participants being recorded, these events are known simply as life. As mentioned in a previous blog post, the aim of this project is to digitally preserve sound recordings and make history accessible to the public. Each recording shares something unique about the local history of the areas they are from, which in this case is Tyne and Wear in the North East of England.

Notes on paper from a tape box which belonged to
Catherine Cookson

There is a distinct difference between listening to people sharing their first-hand experiences of the World Wars than reading about said experiences in a book. Imagine being afraid to turn on the lights at night because you cannot afford curtains and there is a nationwide blackout due to bomb threats. Imagine poverty during and after the wars being so severe that food has to be rationed and there are no jobs available, leading to a heavy drinking culture and an increase in diseases and death. It was seen as a luxury being able to rent a room in a house, let alone a whole flat, and official parish funds were established to provide families with shoes and clothing for their children. Now think about the fact that this is actually going on in several parts of the world, today. Listening to authentic accounts of people’s experiences certainly makes you think differently about the world. About history. And even about yourself.

Kristina with a tape of recordings about the Jarrow March which feature reminiscence by people who knew men who marched or witnessed the events of the time

This post was off to a bit of a dark start, but these historic accounts also make you fall in love with the country, its people and its history again. You get to relive the romanticism you are used to finding in books and films. There are stories of families growing their own produce in back gardens, keeping hens and pigeons, neighbourhood communities helping each other out, children playing in the streets and families playing the piano in the evenings, accompanied by song. Imagine getting dressed in your Sunday best and going to the seaside, or perhaps even a regatta during the summer months. Or enjoying freshly baked bread in the mornings and meat from the butchers for dinner. There are stories of attending dances and falling in love. In other words, life is not a fairy tale and it is not as black and white as good or bad and happy or sad. And what better way to learn than being handed down information from the people experiencing them?

Launch party of the bulk carrier ‘Gloxinia’ on 20th February 1958 (TWAM ref. DS.RDD/4/21/3). She was launched at the shipyard of John Readhead & Sons, South Shields. The firm played a significant role in the North East’s shipbuilding history and the development of South Shields.

The part I have played in the ‘Unlocking Our Heritage Sound’ project is to listen to oral history interviews of people from the local area talking about their work, family lives and experiences and cataloguing the information to appropriate British Library standards. The end goal is to make the stories accessible to the public. I have learnt more than I ever expected about working at shipyards during the 20th century – the long working hours and the great friendships formed there. I have learnt about the incredibly hard work carried out by the women in the household: baking, cooking, bathing and washing for up to 14 people. I have learnt about the development in possibilities for women beyond staying at home. I have heard the joy in their voices as they reminisce over how happy life was back then, despite living a much tougher life. I have heard the sorrow in their voices as they remember their loved ones who have passed away. If I can help make these stories available to the public, that is work I am proud to undertake!  

Unlocking Our Sound Heritage is funded by a grant from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, as well as generous funding from charities and individuals. 

Hunting the Caribou – by Jo Anderson, Assistant Keeper of Archaeology

For many of the First Nations living in the north of Canada, caribou was an important food source.  These large creatures, which are very similar to  reindeer in northern Europe, were hunted by many different peoples for their meat and their skins.  One nation was the Innu, who lived  on the Quebec-Labrador peninsula in north east Canada.

Previously, the Innu were known as “Naskapi”. This was the name used by European colonisers and is a derogatory term meaning “uncivilised people”. The Innu prefer their own name, which means “human being”.

Caribou

When hunting caribou , the Innu would wear beautifully decorated coats made out of caribou skins, and we have one of these in the GNM: Hancock collection.

An object as spectacular as this deserves attention, and so I’ve been researching the coat, its decoration, and what it all means to the Innu.

Many native groups across North America, including the Innu, recognised that there was a bond between animals and humans.  They believed that every animal had a spirit and their favour had to be sought if it was to be hunted successfully.  To please the spirits of the animals they hunted, clothing was often decorated with a high level of artistry.  Nowhere is this seen more effectively than in the caribou skin coats of the Innu, where the painted coat became the physical evidence of the relationship between the Innu and the caribou.

Before a hunt, careful preparation was required which involved the making of the hunting coat.  When asleep, a man would receive instructions through his dreams about the decorations needed for the coat.  He would pass these messages onto his wife.  Highly skilled artists and seamstresses, the Innu women would then produce an item of clothing that was not only functional but a major artistic creation.  

Let’s get a more detailed look at our coat to see what this involved.

It was thought that dreams would reveal particular themes and motifs that would give the hunter power.  Simple instructions about these designs would be passed onto his wife who would then use these themes and enrich them. 

In our coat we can see that the most significant motif used is the double curve. 

The Double Curve motif

Many Innu coats feature this motif, but it’s all of the added details that makes the coat unique.  Pairs of leaves can be seen supported by the double curve.  For the peoples who live through the northern winters, the first signs of new leaves in the spring with their promise of renewal and life is a great joy.  It seems completely natural for this joy to be reflected in designs for such an important garment.  Plant designs can also be seen in the shaped triangles along the curves.

The most important part of the coat was actually the back of it.  Here we can see the “back gusset” of the garment. 

The narrow triangle shape lined in red marks the back gusset

At the base of the coat, Innu women would cut out a triangle of skin and insert another piece, sometimes larger than the original to make the coat flare out at the bottom.  This replacement was done not to make it more visually pleasing, but for highly ritualistic reasons.  The shape of the gusset was triangular, similar to a mountain peak.  To the Innu, this represented the Magical Mountain where the Lord of the Caribou lived.  They believed this being sent out the spirits of the caribou to the hunter.  If the Lord of the Caribou was respected and honoured, then the hunter would have success.  It was this that was the symbolic centre of the coat’s power.

While beautiful to look at, it’s the hidden meanings behind this coat that give pause for thought.

It physically represents the relationship between the Innu’s ordinary world and the dream world, and it highlights the importance of communication and trust between an Innu hunter and his wife who creates the coat for him.  And lastly, like so many examples of native North American art it embodies the relationship between people, the land, the animals they interact with, and the spirit world.

This research is made possible through a Headley Fellowship with Art Fund