By Eddie Sandes

Part 1 Silverdale

Eddie Sandes was probably best known locally as a Morecambe Bay fisherman, but in the 1970’s Mr Bradley recorded an interview with him about his experiences as a farm hand at the end of the First World War. Mr Bradley has kindly allowed this shortened version of the tape to be printed. (A transcription of the whole tape has been put in the archives. )

When he was thirteen Eddie started working for Jonathan Robertson, first at Knowe Hill, then at Bank House Farm, living in at both places. Bank House had about forty acres, but did not carry so many cows as a farm of that size today, Eddie said.

‘ .. . never above six or eight at the most milking. And you can tell it was a good piece, really a good farm … well, the same farm today … It has twenty odd milk beasts. They’ve got a milking parlour put up, haven’t they? . . . Well, that’s thirty then. So the same farm now is going to have thirty milk cows on it as had six or eight on. ‘

( Who got him up?) Well, the boss, Jonathan. . . Oh, well, he wasn’t a hard task master. I wouldn’t say. Probably seven o’clock, half past six. He wasn’t one of these real hard cases, you know … it was only a small farm and he just liked to live his life and went on. He didn’t do much work himself … Spent a lot of time on rabbiting and things like that … He was a very keen poultry man. He used to do a lot of showing Bard Rocks … That was very popular about here at that time. There was a few in Silverdale. Matt Slater. Him and a fellow called Jackson. He isn’t here now. He’s dead. Old Dr Jackson too .. He was a well known sportsman. He was very keen on this poultry.’. . .

Well of course the lad’s job, the first thing, was to get the cows up ready for milking, you see. .. of course the boss used to milk what you’d say the cows that give the most milk. milking wi’ hand, you know, Because the old-fashioned the faster you could milk them, the better milker you were, the more milk the cow gave. .. Therefore the boss picked the best. Those giving the most milk out. And the lads did what they call the stripper. They were cows that weren’t giving much, what was going to calve again before long … they didn’t give them much cake then, not like they do now. Some of them a bit, but in summer. . . None at all in summer. No.’

‘Yes. Well, yes. Tried (ploughing) . But of course they were never satisfied with a lad’s ploughing, weren’t farmers. They were very proud about their ploughing in those days. How straight it had to be and the depth and everything. Used to spend a lot more time working the land than they do now. Rolled it about more. Put it that way … It was a slow job getting crops in … Very slow. ‘ ‘…

of course, all farms kept a bit of everything then. A pig or two. A few hens, which they don’t now … So then the next job was going feeding these few hens which then they used to be fed outside, not like they are now. I used to take some corn and throw it down on the grass, you know, that’s what the hens got.’ ‘ ….

There’s a lot of good grassland now that was more or less. . well, nearly going to waste .. er .. probably trees growing on it … Bright’s Farm … What they call the Lots, which is a real cattle on it. In those days it was nothing but that wild gorse. We used to go burn it off in summer and snathen it off and that, so the sheep didn’t get fast among it. .. (How many sheep?) … not many. Mick Mason keeps about a hundred yowes now Because he lets them out on the marsh. Well, then about a dozen was a lot, going back. (Then there was very little marsh, not as much as twenty or thirty yards. ) Now there’s probably what? A mile? Quite a mile. Yes.

‘You’d be always found your job. .. Used to fell a tree somewhere because there … was more wood about then than there is now. More waste land. Used to fell a tree and we’d saw it up. Might be you’d spend all day sawing wood up, rather than having to buy coal. The wood did for the fire, d’you see?’ ‘

You see the farmers then, well I understand. . . they were poor, they hadn’t the money to buy the stuff they needed, so they used to have to make their living out of the land, which was ploughing, growing different kinds of fruit … different kinds of crops … vegetables, potatoes, things like that and take them to market and sell them to get the cash to carry on with.’ ‘

… . poultry and that, they used to dress a hen or two each week if they could … See, that was something. It was an income. Same with pigs, you know. They could always kill their own pigs. Cut them up. Some made bacon. Sold a bit of pork. Anyway they could …. ‘ (Pigs were fed) ‘mostly meal, Of course any kind of swill you had. You used to chop mangels for them. Turnips. And most farms grew a bit of corn then. Of course they used to get the corn crushed at the mill and that came back for the pigs. .. ‘

‘ … they used to grow quite a lot of vegetables Peas. Cabbage. Beetroot. Beans, I remember all the farmers would grow all … most of those things. Not just for themselves. To sell. That was a little part of an income … And if you notice every farm’s had an orchard in those days. They haven’t now, but you can still see where the orchard’s been. All of them. Not some. All the lot of them … apples, mostly. A few plums, but plums and pears weren’t as popular. Well, plums are very erratic, aren’t they? You can’t rely on them somehow. .. Apples were the main thing.’

(What happened to the milk?) ‘Well, if they wanted to rear calves, obviously to use the milk to rear them. . . They used it for the bigger calves. .. Oh it was all used on the farm. If they’d more milk than they wanted to rear calves, some used to make butter, some used to make cheese … all of them sold just a drop of milk. Used to go round with a gallon can. . . and an old fashioned measure used to hang inside it.

Hay Making.

‘Well, some of them had to (hire labour in hay time) … but these small holdings didn’t. Only a man at night … these around here used to get a chap to come for a few hours on a fine night from the quarry, but, you know, they were sure they wanted him when he came. There was no coming with nothing much to do. They made the hay ready and had it platted up ready. All he had to do was get it inside.’

‘Oh, we used to be late in those days. Oh, well, they didn’t start before July, sometimes to nearly August. Now it’s just the opposite, you see. You can’t be any earlier. Nothing like June hay, they say now. It’s even got to the piece now they’re starting in May, never mind June. You’d have thought they were mad when they talked about getting some June hay.’

‘When it was first mown they called it swathe you know. Breaking it out of swathe, they called it .. . You spread it with forks then. You’d start turning with a rake, then. You see. Its very hard to get it up and cover all the ground with it. . And you start with a rake to get it off the ground again. Well. it was always damp underneath a plat. So the next day, where it were a dry year, they’d roll it there, like the mother end up. That was procedure …. Turning it.”

‘ … there again in two or three days they have it a good hay now. With the machinery they have. Well then it used to take a week. And most farmers … well, all the good, particular farmers they had to have it standing in cocks a day or two before they were taking it into the barn .. . that was thought to be a necessity in those days. To stand a day or two like that. Of course now it’s in the barn before they would think about cockers¹. ‘

‘The women used to have to help. In hay time you know, that was almost the thing.’ ‘ After the hay had stood in cocks it was brought into the barn. ‘Yes. Yes. Leading .. . That was leading. ‘ Some times on lurries,² but more often on two wheeled carts because they were easier to manoeuvre into a barn.

‘But they had cages on them, as they call them you know. Hay shilvings. Back and front. They would stick out over the horses back, you see. And stick out behind. They called those hay shilvings.

The skill of loading the cart described.

‘That-side. That side. Middle. To hold them you see. You put that side first. You keep backing on your cart. You start at the back. Not at the front. Always start at the back. That corner. That corner. Middle. You see the middle was kind of on the top of those, by that was holding them down. Now then you have your back and you keep backing up the cart. . . No, you don’t go right to the front. You left it .. . you kept doing that until you’d just room for six more. You see. Well, you turn round and start in the two front corners and the centre and work back again. Then the next two behind them bound all the lot d’you see. . . If you’d have carried on and finished on your front corner, there’d be nothing to hold it. It would have gone. That’s how. And you used to mostly put three rounds on a cart, but a good loader, if he was a good way from the barn would put five on, He’d be canny like, you know. He’d some weight up above, you know. . . So if you were on a bit of a slope or anything, you’d to be careful. You could … Carts have been thrown over. Well, many a time. And of course if cart goes over horse has to go with it because it’s fast in the shafts.

(In the barn) ‘you unload it just as you forked it on. You haven’t to break any of the forks up, you see. When you want to fork it off, on to the mow. .. if you don’t take it out as it went in, you’re soon in a mix up. You’re pulling one … trying to get one out that’s fast under the other, d’you see? So, that was it. ….

At the end of twelve months Eddie decided to try another job. This was in the winter of nineteen eighteen/nineteen. The account of his hiring at Ulverstone Fair and his experiences at a big dairy farm forms Part 2

Part 2. Silverdale and Urswick

This second part is mainly about his experience on a bigger farm to which he moved in 1918. It begins however with the story of another Silverdale man, which has interest as showing that at the beginning of this century it was still possible to set up farming with almost no capital. The story came out in reply to a passing question about rents and prices.

Have you any idea what rents were?

‘I a’nt quite sure, but….well, of course, there again, there were good farms and poor farms . Good land and poor land. So that really don’t think you can generalise on a thing like that. But. . er. . you could get a fifty acre farm for round about … fifty pound a year. A pound an acre. Something like that a year.

How much capital would a man need to start up?

‘Mmm. Well, there was an old man here they called him (Eamonn?) Robinson. No relation to the Robinson we’ve been talking about previously. A different man. Farmed Hazelwood Farm. Now he came there about …. 1900. Very early 1900’s. And he always used to tell them that he … that when he came he had fourteen pound, and he spent it immediately on two old horses and a plough, and that’s all the capital he had. From there the income he needed for his wife to keep the house with. stuff he grew, rabbits he caught, and things like that. Took them to the market. Hunting for rabbits, stuff from the orchard. Apples. Anything. Crops he could grow, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, anything in the vegetable line and for another … the other income to pay his rent, and build up stock off … you see all he could do was start with a few calves … worth about anything from five to ten bob a piece. That was something like the price of them then. Used to take in what they call joists cattle³. That means farmers that were better off and probably more cows than they could keep on their own farm. They’d give you so much a week for keeping these. Same applied to sheep. And that’s how he carried on from there. Well, he farmed successfully. He was a good farmer and he was still there till about … oh, 1935 or something like that. So … that’s thirty odd years’.

And he’d make a bit of hay and sell it?

‘Oh no, you see he still kept joist stock in winter. He got paid for … he had to use the hay on the farm For till⁴ If you sold the hay you had to buy …. pay money out of that, which was out altogether for a fellow without the money to buy it. So … No. they used to go mowing bracken and things like that in those days to make bedding for the calves, to make manure. Used to be an agreement in those days, you know. The farmer weren’t allowed to sell hay. Oh yes. They used to put it in the agreement. They called them poor farmers who sold hay and so on and things like that’.

“Robinson, he had a milk round all his life, and when he’d be seventy odd he was still going round with the milk. Used to have a camel to fit on his shoulders, that’s like a wooden thing … With a big can on … on a chain. On each side. A big one. I don’t know. A whole gallon, I suppose. He used to be going round from … Oh, you’d see him going from just turned seven in the morning. One end of the village, and coming out at the other about ten o’clock’.

In November 1918 Eddie Sandes decided to move on.” He went to the Hiring at Ulverston

. …. I went to … Ulverston. At the back end they have what they call hiring. At Ulverston. All the farm servants then went … that’s on the 11th of November … there were dozens of lads and quite a lot of farmers, walking about looking for what they thought a likely lad …. and they would come and ask you … you make your hiring and they shake hands and then they gave you two shillings. They called that earl⁵ money and that was binding. That bound you to them for six months. That were how it went about. … You simply walked up and down the street till somebody come and ask you. ”

The hirings were for six months?

“The six months was from the 11th of November … till Whit Saturday. Whit Saturday was the day you finished. Always. Whatever date it came on … Then you were hired again for the summer period .. You’d a week’s holiday and you went back the week after. Till November. But they always used to like to pay a bit more for the summer than the winter because it was longer hours. Haytime and things like that. … . “

There was one (Hiring Fair) at Lancaster. But there were very few there. People give over going. It (Ulverston) was practically the only one. They came from way up the fells. Down below Lancaster they used to go to Ulverston hiring. Oh, it was the best place’.

Farming at Urswick.

‘And I hired then to this place called Jackson’s at Ossick. Or Urswick. I don’t know how to pronounce it really …. For six pound tor the winter. I would roughly be I think about fifteen, sixteen years old then … just right away when the war finished. The same years that the war finished? Yes’.

… something like four hundred acres. They used to milk about sixty cows … He used to buy them as he needed to keep his milk average up, you see. One was knocking off its milk, it used to have to go, and buy another one … Losing money on cows and getting it back on kit⁶ Put it that way, ”

They didn’t do any brackening there, because they didn’t rear any calves. But they used to buy grazers in the spring, mostly Irish cattle then, for feeding for beef. Instead of rearing calves. They were milking all the year round, but … in summer there was an awful lot of grazers … mostly Irish. “. ..

There was four lads about my age. . about sixteenish. Something like that. Four lads and a man. Called him the hirer. He was the boss, like. Not the old one, but he was in charge of us. We were there six months. The winter six months. Seven days a week, for up every morning at quarter to five. If you didn’t get up, he’d pull you out … We all four slept in the same room. It was a big bedroom. And that was it’. ‘…

‘..we used to take the milk in churns to Ulverston station, which was if I remember right about four miles. And we had to catch a train there at half-past eight … That was my job. (The milk went) … To Barrow for delivery. He used to sell it to … a dairy. Oh there’d be … six or seven churns. Kits … not churns. Kits. ‘

‘Well, we used to start at quarter to five, but I didn’t milk as long as the other chaps. I was the eldest of these four lads. That’s why I got that job. I had to take it to Ulverston station in the morning. With the milk float and horse. I used to go down … go into the house for my breakfast. I’d have (to) yoke my horse up and take it to the dairy … They used to give me time so that I was just about there at the time they’d finish milking, d’you see? To get all the milk in the kit’.

‘The first job was, give them an armful of hay in the morning between the two cows. A tub, as they used to call it. That’s provin⁷ And as you came to them to milk them you gave them the provin. The tub was down there and you flung it down in front of them. They had the hay to eat as soon as you got up. But as you come up to milk time you used to pick the tub up and drop it in front of them. … It you didn’t do that they wouldn’t let the milk down. See? ‘

‘The quantity of milk they were giving, they got the quantity of cake … exactly .. you see. The tubs weren’t always the same size. The more milk a cow gave the more provin they gave it. ”

(For provin) we used to use … two things; cotton cake. And oil cake. Those two. They used to come in slabs about, oh .. if I remember right, eighteen inch to two foot long about a foot wide and perhaps three quarters of an inch thick. Something like that .. there was a machine like a thing with … not teeth but kind of spikes in it. Used to drop it in at the top and twine the handle and it used to crush it , ‘you see … Like a hopper .. it had a slide down, you see the weigh of the cake … Now when it got to there, the jaws were perhaps only about that width. One there going round and one here going round, and it took hold of them, do you see.

I was there in winter six months, I didn’t want to stop for I’d had enough of winter there (laughter) … its a rough job … but I can tell you this little bit, when we went in, hired, as I told you … He said, right, he said, well, come on such a train and we’ll pick you up at Ulveston Station .. of course. I didn’t know him, but when we got there, there were these other lads. There were four of us he picked up. We were all strangers and we’d been going away in float he said this is start of our land, that’s our turnip yonder. I said how many acres is that? He said twenty acre. An there was snow on the ground, all covered with snow!… We nearly passed out when he told us we had twenty acres of turnips to pull, because it was a lot, you know. Well you had to pull them with hand .. Oh many a day like, us four lads in there! You know what it’s like in old snow any time you pick anything up. Of course they’d get them (balled?) in the cart before the real bad weather come, but that particular day, that was Martinmas, there was snow on the ground then. So it wasn’t very promising telling you you’d all those to pull, and they were covered with snow, was it? That was the first insight … they’d take them to the farm and cover then with bedding like, to keep the frost off them, d’ you see. Kind of hog⁸ them as they call it.

1. This appears to be the reading, although this form of the word has not been found elsewhere ↩︎
2. A lurry; any four-wheeled vehicle on a farm. ↩︎
3. Joist, jist or gist. The word is still in common use in this area. The OED gives gist ‘to take in (or put out) cattle at so much per head” and considers it to be related to the French gite, a lodging. ↩︎
4. Till Locally: fertiliser. (i.e. by using a farm’s own hay to feed the cattle the goodness would be given back to the land in the animal droppings and fertilise it). ↩︎
5. Oxford English Dictionary (OED) Earl or Arle (Northern) To ‘fasten’ by earnest money ↩︎
6. OED Kit – A circular wooden vessel made of hooped staves… a vessel used for carrying milk etc. Here, presumably used for the content rather than the container. ↩︎
7. Provin still in use today in this area. The nearest word in the OED is Provend – Food provisions esp dry food for horses, as corn and hay ↩︎
8. Hog OED To store potatoes etc in a heap covered with straw andd earth (Orig obscure) ↩︎

Published in Mourholme Magazines Issue 15 1990 and Issue 16 1991

Footeran Lane runs from the edge of Yealand Redmayne, past the village school and village to Yealand Conyers. The low-level site and hall may have been a rubbish dumping ground before the school was built in 1840. There is also a waste ground adjoining the last house Well Lane which a resident of the village, born locally in 1900, referred to as “the footeran”. She recalled that this is where the refuse collectors took the rubbish they collected on their then rare visits. The origin of the name is not recorded.

The question of the origin was aired in the Journal of the Lancashire Dialect Society last year, correspondent suggested a connection with French forms and perhaps a link with some lingering Norman-French term. In demotic usage Foutre quelque chose par terre means to throw something on the ground, foutoir is a messy place and foutaise is rubbish; and terrain is a piece of ground in French and English. An alternative possibility is that the term was brought back from World War I, but the history of the name has not been traced far enough back to decide whether this is even possible.

A century ago Carnforth had an influx of miners, largely from Dudley in Worcestershire. A north midland term for a drift mine was “footerill”, and this has been brought into the discussion. If this is relevant at all, the explanation of “footeran” will be more complicated. The editor would be glad to hear from any reader who has any specific information which may clarify the origins of Footeran Lane.

Mr Kenneth Greaves notes that the Oxford English Dictionary gives the word “footer” as means to triffle or potter about. Hence it is suggested “footeran” might indicate a place for footering or hanging about and refers to a lover’s lane. “Footer” also appears in Lancashire dialect dictionaries; the change from footering to footeran is not covered.

The Yealand pronunciation can be represented as “foot run” the “u” indicating a short “oo”. It must be remarked that Footeran Lance is the main route for traffic into and out of the village and not obviously likely as a lover’s lane.

Further information about this name has come to light, thanks to the members who are reading nineteenth century newspapers.

On September 7th 1833 the Lancaster Gazette carried an advertisement for the sale by auction of “Two closes, or parcels, of Land, situate at Yealand Conyers, called Great Footerns and Little Footerns. . . ”

The tithe schedule of 1846 shows that there was a field named Footern in Yealand Conyers, and another Footern, as well as Little Footern, and Footern Hemplands in Redmayne. (Fig. 1) Fig.1 Border of Yealand Conyers and Redmayne 1843 (Field names from Tithe schedules) They lay around the pool, which then, as now, lay behind the school. They are bounded on the west by Footeran Lane. Some of the field names remain, like Fall, (to the west of Footeran Lane) and Flatt, but Footern seems to have been lost as a name. Great and Little Footern are now one field, which is known as School Field. The Footern in Yealand Conyers, now part of the Hartley estate, is also referred to as School Field. The information on modern field names was kindly supplied by Mr Edward Walker of Hill Top Farm, whose land includes the Redmayne Footerns. Mr Walker was also able to confirm, from his personal memories, the former existence of the pool marked at the south end of Footern Hemplands. It, as well as the cattle trough at the end of Well Lane, were accepted watering places, though the pool was not reliable in dry weather. All this still does not give an explanation of the name, but is perhaps a step towards discovering it.

Published in Mourholme Magazines Issue 15 1990 and Issue 16 1991 and Issue 17 1991

by Guy Woolnough

In the early years of the nineteenth century, more people wanted to set up schools for the children of ordinary, low-paid people. Many of those who wished to provide schools for the children of the poor were worried that the poor were ignorant of the Bible and the Christian faith; they thought the poor needed moral education even more than reading, writing and arithmetic. Religious groups led the way in Carnforth, as in most other places; they knew that only by providing a school would they persuade the parents of the children who most needed “moral guidance” to send them.

In 1849 the Reverend Thomas Dean, Vicar of Warton, was granted £60 by the National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church. The site for the new school was a triangle of land previously occupied by the Tithe Barn; the school building is still there to-day, though it is now occupied by the National Tyre Service. To pay for it, a total of £227 was collected, mostly from gentlemen who did not live near Carnforth; the “landowners of Carnforth” donated a total of £11.7.1d.

There was a public opening of the Carnforth National School, with a special service, on October 8th 1850, but there is little to tell us what the school was like. The teacher was given no pay, but would have collected school pence from the children. This would only have been 3d or so per child per week, raising perhaps 10 shillings a week; he most likely had another source of income. The teacher is named in the 1851 census; Robert Townson, age 66, a widower sharing his home with his sister and two nieces.

The following is from the rules and regulations adopted by the Managers at a meeting in 1850. “The children are to be instructed in the Holy Scriptures and in the Liturgy and Catechism of the Established Church.” The managers made no stipulation about any other subjects which were to be taught.

By 1861 Carnforth had grown by a third since 1851, thanks mainly to the railway. So it is not surprising that some of the gentlemen of the parish decided to extend and improve the school; in particular they wanted to provide the school with a regular income. To this end a bazaar was held in August that year, which raised the amazing total of £568.8s. 6d. The list of Patrons includes many notable persons. His Grace the Duke of Devonshire heads it. These patrons would make the event smart and fashionable as well as making generous donations. Local worthies acted as stewards. None of their children would ever have attended a school such as Carnforth National. It is, for instance, known that one of them, Robert Jackson of Hall Gowan, employed a governess in 1861 to teach his four school-age children.

The bazaar lasted three days, offering dinner at half a crown, ice-cream, beer, wine, and a ‘ Room of Curiosities’. The entrance fee to the Bazaar seems to have been specially designed to separate the classes, coming down from two shillings on the first day to sixpence on the third. The Band of the Rifle Corps only attended for the first two days.

Within a few months of the bazaar the managers advertised for a new teacher. The school building had been improved and they were now able to offer a salary. In January 1862 a letter was sent to Henry Ingliss Orr offering him the post.

‘You will receive the interest of £500 which is expected to realize £20 per Ann: together with the whole of the Children’s Pence.’

Mrs Orr was expected to instruct the girls in plain knitting and sewing. The letter offering the post added

‘Saturday will be a Holiday & this together with the unoccupied Evenings in the Week might enable you to hold the office of Rate or Tax collector or of Assistant Overseer with a proper Remuneration from the Township; there is a desire on the part of some of the Inhabitants to procure you such an Appointment. An Evening School two or three Evenings in the Week might be beneficial to the young Men in the Neighbourhood and be profitable to yourself.’

The method of managing the school was tidied up by a new scheme dated July 4th, 1862. The school was defined as for “the children of the labouring, manufacturing and other poorer Classes” of Carnforth. The Managers had to be well off and live in the area; they must also give at least £1 a year to the running of the school. They were to be elected, but their voting power would depend on how much they gave; one vote for every ten shillings.

An extension to the school was opened in January 1863 with a special tea party. The speeches given (as reported in the Lancaster Gazette) make clear that the school was intended to prepare the children for a working life as servants or manual workers. The Rev. Thomas Dean, vicar of Warton, is reported as follows. ‘The surplus population (of Carnforth) is being sent out as servants in the large towns or as emigrants. In either case he urged the necessity of a careful religious education.’ Mr Erving, a retired builder, assured the people of Carnforth from his long experience of the manufacturing districts ‘that it was idle to send their children there without some degree of education, for without it they would never succeed. ‘

In 1867 the managers decided to apply to the Department of Education for a grant. They learnt that a grant could not be made unless the school was taught by a certificated teacher, which Mr Orr was not. Furthermore, according to the vicar he expressed himself ‘in great doubt whether he shall offer himself for examination’ nevertheless the managers invited the Education Department to send an inspector to see the school, even though no grant would be forthcoming. The inspector reported: –

‘The elder children seem to have been taught something and have passed fairly on the Standards in which they were presented which generally are too low. The younger children know little or nothing for their Age. Discipline is poor, and there is a general want of Order and Method. Nothing can be done until a proper Supply of Books and Slates is provided. The master should procure proper Registers and a Log Book and study the Requirements of the Revised Code generally. It is strongly recommended to provide a Mistress for the Girls and Infants; and to separate off the Upper part of the room for them.’

As often happens today the blame was directed at the easiest target. On November 21st 1867, Mr Orr was dismissed. He remained in Carnforth working as Surveyor, Assistant Overseer and later as Secretary to the Carnforth Waterworks Company.

A new teacher, Mr Joseph Smith, took over the school in March 1868. He had been a pupil teacher at the Lancaster National School, and had then attended a college in Oxford. He had taught before and was properly certificated. He was unmarried and his sister undertook the duties of Mistress. A grant was given, but the Inspector made it contingent on there being improvement. The next year, in the absence of any such improvement, the grant was cut by ten per cent though the Inspector did allow some excuse from ‘ the fluctuating character of the surrounding population which to some extent affects the attendance.‘ In December 1870 the grant was cut by two thirds. ‘Whatever knowledge there is seems almost purely mechanical and the power of fixing attention and answering thoughtfully is very small.’

Mr Smith was duly dismissed.

After some delay, Mr Tom Clark, a Cumberland man, was appointed master of the school, starting his duties on January 1st 1872 with the generous salary of £90 per annum. On this occasion the managers made a determined effort to improve the school. The building was extended to take another hundred pupils, and a separate infant’s department was set up under Tom’s wife.

The next inspector’s report was flattering. The Managers sent a letter to Mr Clark congratulating him on the improvement in the school. The total number of passes on inspection had risen from 33 in 1870 to 109 in 1872. The number of children had risen from 67 to 141 and the total grant paid from £21.73 to £82 .90.

As the school and the town grew it became essential to extend the building and employ more staff. Building programmes were started in 1872 and 1882. The money was found in 1872 from donations. By the 1880’s it was clear that donations alone would not work. At their meeting in July 1882, the managers adopted a system, new at any rate to Carnforth, but tried elsewhere: a voluntary rate was levied on the people of Carnforth. There is no indication of what the response of the public was to this voluntary rate, but it did at least pay for the alterations needed.

I have looked at the people aged five to twelve in the census returns; this is the age group which would most commonly be scholars. Of this age group in 1881 and 1861 only three were not described as ‘scholar’. The 1851 census is more varied. This is how the five to twelve year olds were described; ‘At home’ 11, ‘Scholar’ 20, ‘Servant’ 1. No entry for 10 children.

If the census entries can be trusted, it seems that by 1861 most children did go to school even though the law did not require it. By 1878, when the Clarks were well established, virtually all school age children must have been attending. It would be interesting to know how all parents were persuaded to send their children, No mention is made in the Minute Book of parents being forced or persuaded to send their children.

The Clarks were never the only teachers in the school. In January 1872, when they took over, there was a pupil teacher about to be appointed for the infants, and another, Daniel Miller, already appointed. Daniel was 13. He was born in Carnforth, the son of a farmer, Joseph Miller. In the 1861 census, at the age of two, he is shown as a ‘scholar’! In 1881, age 22, he was an assistant teacher. When Mr Clark died, Daniel Miller was appointed headmaster in his place. He himself died in office in 1913, so his association with the school was almost lifelong. Daniel Miller can be seen in the school photo of 1890 (John Easter Roberts, Old Carnforth 1977).

In the 1881 census 6 pupil teachers are listed, with ages ranging from 14 to 19. So three teachers were teaching more than 350 pupils, with the assistance of six pupil teachers. In 1895 the staffing of the school was much the same; two certificated teachers, three assistants and three pupil teachers to 430 pupils. Even with excellent pupil teachers, the task must have been tremendous. The number of staff and pupil teachers stayed much the same well into the 20th century; no wonder that Mr Clark died aged 48 and Daniel Miller in his early fifties; no wonder that on one occasion Mr Clark lost his temper and struck a boy with disastrous results.

The estimates of Receipts and Expenditure in 1872 show, that out of a total expenditure of £201.16s, £60 came from the Government Grant (30 per cent) and £72 from School Pence, and £22 from interest on money invested. From 1873 Mr Clark received all the income of the school: the school pence, the Government grant, the income of the invested money. Out of this he met all the running expenses of the school, including payment of any other teachers needed. Mr Clark would keep all the remaining money, up to a generous maximum of £220, as his own, instead of receiving pay. However a few years later the managers were very angry to discover that he was gaining much more than this. The Clark’s were, in the 1881 census, shown to have two servants, much more than an elementary teacher could usually afford.

This arrangement only ceased with Mr Clark’s death in 1894. Mrs Clark continued as mistress of the Infant’s Department, but both Mrs Clark and the new Headmaster, Daniel Miller, received a fixed salary. They were paid £120 and £130 respectively, quite modest compared with Mr Clark’s £220.

By the 1890’s the managers were almost totally reliant on the Government grant; since this could vary according to the Inspector’s report, the financial position of the school was increasingly difficult. ‘Estimates of Working’ for 1895-6 show that, out of a total expenditure of £606.10s, £310 was expected to come from the Government grant (51 per cent) and £250 from ‘Pence and subsidy’ (41 per cent). Except for this item the old sources of income were now very small in value. The managers’ problem was that the law said parents could apply for free education. Such an application was made in 1893. The managers of the National School contacted, for the first time the managers of the British School on Hawk Street (a Congregational school set up in the early 1880’s), The managers of the two schools decided on a joint policy, which was to charge the younger children nothing; the older children (who were not required by law to attend) would have to pay but they conveniently managed to “find” a few free places, so that those parents who made a fuss could be satisfied. A proper solution only came with the Education Act 1902 which set up Local Education Authorities to assume financial responsibility.

The 19th century, especially the Victorian period, was one of considerable change in education in Carnforth as elsewhere. In many ways progress has been slower in the 20th century. Yet the National School remained what it had been at the start, a school for the children of the working classes. The children of gentlemen were no more likely to go to such a school in 1900 than they would have been in 1850. There was however one noticeable change. In 1897 a new scheme of management was introduced. Instead of a system in which only the better off could be managers, the new committee of managers was to have nine members, three from the church, three from the town council and three parents. This was a foretaste of the changes which would come in the 20th century.

The building itself, on the old site, remained in use as a school until 1960, when the new secondary school opened.

Sources

The Minute Book of the Managers of the Carnforth National School. This book is kept at Christchurch School, Carnforth,

The census returns, 1841 to 1881. (Unfortunately, 1871 returns are largely illegible)

The Lancaster Gazette, Observer and Guardian, Trade directories. Charity Commissioners Reports.

This article is a shortened version of Schools in Carnforth 1840-1902 Guy Woolnough 1987. A copy of the complete article has been placed in the archives.

Published in Mourholme Magazines Issue 15 1990