Category Archives: Arts

Henner Hudspeth

Hearing Henner Hudspeth

We recently published Jean Walker (nee Pretswell)’s account of growing up on Cardigan Teraace. She referred to her next door neighbour: ‘On the left side, at number 11, was Henner Hudspeth. He had a dance band and used to practise in the house – noise pollution! It wouldn’t be allowed nowadays!’

Henner Hudspeth

Henner Hudspeth practising his accordian

Bandsman

Jean’s memories prompted Heaton History Group member, Ian Clough, to do some further digging. Ian takes up the story:

‘No sooner had I read Jean’s recollections, than my memories were transported back in time, vividly picturing the painted sign above the front door of number nine Cardigan Terrace reading ‘PRETSWELL’S REMOVALS’, when I remembered my friend, Tricia Easby, once telling me that her father Henry Hudspeth was born at number 11. And sure enough he is found there, aged two, in the 1911 census, “But who was Henner Hudspeth?” , I hear you asking. Well, stick a lad in a group of others long enough and the chance is he’ll end up with a nickname and that’s what happened to Henry Hudspeth, the Victor Silvester of Heaton aka Henner Hudspeth. Here he is as a young man playing accordion in Al Moore’s Band at The Heaton in 1933:

Al Moore's band at the Heaton, 1933

Al Moore’s band at the Heaton, 1933

‘And here, with a little imagination we can read the banner as ‘HENNER HUDSPETH AND HIS BAND’ and the singer is apparently ‘Edna’, the name pencilled on the back of the photo but Edna who? Henner formed a dance band and played at the time when ballroom dancing was in its heyday. The band played at many venues but the principal ballrooms in Heaton at the time were ‘The Heaton’ and the ‘Grosvenor Ballroom’. The latter is still to be found on Chillingham Road.

Henner Hudspeth and his band

Henner Hudspeth and his band

And below, the band is caught in full swing but had they literally gone to the dogs playing at Brough Park? The music stands would suggest so.

Henner Hudspeth's band

Henner Hudspeth’s band

The Hudspeth family

‘Henner had good taste, marrying a Heaton lass, Anne (Nancy) Sweeney from Plessey Terrace, at St Gabriel’s Parish Church in 1939.

Henner and Nancy Hudspeth on their wedding day

Henner and Nancy Hudspeth on their wedding day

‘And here are other members of his family, as mentioned in the 1911 census’.

Henner Hudspeth with his mother and father

Frank Hudspeth with his mother and father

Emma Hudspeth

Emma Hudspeth

Arthur Hudspeth

Arthur Hudspeth

The final photograph is of older brother, Arthur, who as previously mentioned in the article, ‘Cardigan Terrace: the memories live on’ was killed in WW1. He was a teacher at Westgate Hill School and is remembered on the Cuthbert Bainbridge Wesleyan War Memorial, now held in storage at St Cuthbert’s on Heaton Road.’

Can you help?

Lots of readers must have heard Henner Hudspeth and his band or danced at the venues mentioned. Please share information or your memories either by adding a comment to the site (by clicking on the link just below the article title) or emailing chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

Jack Common's 'corner-gang' codes

Jack Common’s Avenues in Wartime

Jack Common was born at 44 Third Avenue on 15 August 1903. In his autobiographical novels, ‘Kiddar’s Luck’ and ‘The Ampersand’, he wrote about growing up in Heaton. Although ostensibly fiction, Jack’s writing is clearly based on his own experience and his vivid memories. It tells us about aspects of life in the avenues, before and during World War One, that often we’d have no other way of knowing. Jack describes his milieu, life as a ‘corner boy,’ and gives us a rare (pupil’s) insight into life at Chillingham Road School. He writes with feeling, humour and from the perspective of the socialist he became. While we have to remember the fictional element and the personal viewpoint, Jack Common’s work is an important source for our Heaton Avenues in Wartime research.

The avenues

Some of the places Jack describes have changed, of course, but to anyone familiar with Heaton, the streets (or avenues) of terraced houses and Tyneside flats are instantly recognisable over a hundred years later:

…’ the south side started with a grocer’s shop on the corner, ran straight past some eighty front doors arranged in twos, one for the upstairs flat, one for the down, and each pair separated from the next by the downstairs garden.’

…’when you could crawl and totter, you always made for the street whenever the door was open. Over the rough cement path, down the step onto the wonderfully smooth pavement, perhaps on again to the cobblestones in the middle of the road.’

So far, we’ve traced only one photograph of the Avenues taken during this period. it shows Heaton History Group member, Arthur Andrews’ great aunt, Ruth Castle, outside her home at 47 Tenth Avenue and it chimes with Jack Common’s description of his ‘territory’.

Ruth Castle outside 47 Tenth Avenue

Ruth Castle outside 47 Tenth Avenue, early 1900s

‘These gardens were just narrow fenders of soil laid around the buttress of the bay window but they were magnificently defended from depredation by low brick walls, coped with granite slabs, each sprouting a complicated fence of spiked railings… Between them lay cement aprons in front of the doors.’

Regular visitors

Some of the most evocative descriptions of the avenues are the lively street scenes; the traders and entertainers who passed through: the rag and bone man with his bugle, barrow and paper windmills, ‘made of rough sticks and coloured wallpaper or an umbrella of the same or a fan or a piece of pineapple rock’ which he’d exchange for the jam jars or rags the children brought him.

‘… such a procession of horse-drawn vans, man-pushed barrows, milk chariots, coal-carts and steam wagons… Practically any moment of the day, one or other of these strange craft, ark or pinnacle, was bound to come upon our horizon. The hooves of the faster traffic, doctor’s trap or post office van, shot sparks from our cobbles…’

‘… the slower moving door-to-door tradesmen announced their presence: the milkman with a hand-bell and a high-pitched cry, the firewood seller with a long wail ‘d’ye wa-a-nt any sticks’, the coal-man bluff, solid and low, ‘coal ter wagon, coal ter wagon’, and the hardware merchant, standing on his high cart, with a rapid ringing of plate against plate, produced an insistent tintinabulation which rang across several streets. Very often several of these were around at the same time, plus one or other of varieties of street musician, the tin whistler, the barrel organist or German band….’


‘And that was only the front street…. Though milk and bread were front door deliveries, greengrocery and fish and coal came to the back door…..

'Coo-al' by Mark James

‘Co-al’ by Mark James, Heaton History Group

Down here came the Cullercoats fishwives crying ‘Caller herrin’ in that season and otherwise ‘Fresh fish, hinny, straight from the sea’. They wore their traditional dress of dark blue which so well set off their biscuit tan of arm and face, the salt-white hair and they were like caryatids walking under the great baskets they carried on their heads.’

‘Everbody’s washing hung across the lane so that the appearance of a tradesman’s cart meant a rush to tuck sheets and things round the rope and to raise the diminished bunting high over the horse’s head with a prop.’

Close friends

Common’s descriptions of childhood are equally wonderful and will resonate with many older readers, in particular:

‘… the many games that made their immutable processions across our year. Marbles, tops, hoops and girds, bays, monty-kitty, kick-the-block, up-for-Monday, they came and went in their due seasons.’

‘The marble millionaire gambled untold wealth at the Big Ring, increasing the stakes as the evening wore on until there was a fortune out there on the cement; whole constellations of fat Millies and coloured glass alleys with twinkling spirals down their centres and clear sea-green or whipwater-white pop-alleys winked in the shaky gaslight, nothing less than these high counters allowed in the big game, stonies and chalkies definitely barred. Then in came the bullocker shot from the ringside. The constellation shook and was scrambled; single stars fled or rolled towards the chalk ring. All that went over belonged to the lad that made the shot. Sometimes none did. Right, next player. The winners dropped their captured beauties with a happy plonk into the poke they nearly all carried; losers might fish for a last treasure, a broken pen knife or a watch-compass, to barter for another stake.’

And bonfire night:

‘At the bottom end, on Ninth back lane a mattress in the bonfire had just caught alight, the dervishes around it jumped and yelled from fiery-smudged faces; Eighth were entrenched within their narrow gardens, hurling Chinese crackers and jumping-jacks at all who passed by; Seventh were engaged in a slanging match because the great pyramid of their fire, crowned with a guy sitting in an armchair, had toppled over and was burning against somebody’s back door…. You could even see the near-toddlers solemnly lighting each other’s sparklers from the hot end of the last one to burn out, and there were little girls running wild as they tried to throw London Lights into the air.’

He also describes life in what he refers to as the ‘corner-gangs’. That the camaraderie and solidarity of his gang ‘Sons of the Battle-axe’ meant a lot to Jack can be deduced from his writing and the politics he espoused but also in the fact that, all through his life, he held onto treasured mementos of his Heaton childhood.

The Jack Common Archive is now in the Robinson Library at Newcastle University. Amongst the novel manuscripts, correspondence with publishers and friends, family photographs and cuttings of reviews are the rules, oaths and codes relating to the Sons of the Battle-axe. Examples are displayed here with the permission of the Common family and the university.

Jack Common's 'corner-gang' codes

Jack Common’s ‘corner-gang’ codes

Sons of the Battle-axe oath of allegiance

Sons of the Battle-axe oath of allegiance

Many of Jack Common’s boyhood friends, such as the Ord brothers, appear in ‘Kiddar’s Luck’, with their names unchanged, even if, writing thirty or forty years later, Common appears to have fictionalised some of their back stories.

School

The Chillingham Road School Jack Common attended still stands proudly today, of course. Jack didn’t look back on his schooldays with much affection, believing that working class children like him were being ‘trained for boredom’ as he put it. He conveys his negative feelings in ‘Kiddar’s Luck’:

‘There was a school bell which tolled for some five minutes in the mornings, a peculiarly flat despondent sound, not urgent, not very loud, though it carried over all the Avenues, and it always seemed as if it meant to go on forever.’

although he did have some fond memories:

‘… a class of some fifty children, more than half of them girls, I was disgusted to note. It was a very pleasant classroom though. The morning sun shone in through the wide windows over blue glass vases and painted pottery jugs holding flowers on to the yellow desks.’

But Jack’s daughter, Sally, wrote in a letter to Heaton History Group:

‘I have just looked at their website, and it comes across as such an amazing, vibrant establishment. It makes me want to be a child again and go there! So different from the place my father described that trained children in boredom – in preparation for the boring jobs they would have later’

and Jack would surely have been amazed that today’s pupils learn about and are rightly proud of their somewhat reluctant predecessor.

Winner

For all his later cynicism, Jack (or John as he was known there) Common had some notable successes while at school. He won prizes for at least two of his essays – one a citywide competition on the war-inspired theme of ‘Thrift‘. The essay itself doesn’t survive but he was proud enough of the letter inviting him to collect his prize of Government War Bonds and the newspaper coverage to keep them. They survive in the Jack Common Archive and copies will be displayed at the Chillingham pub from mid-February to mid-April 2015.

The same goes for two compositions about Jesmond Dene for which he also won prizes. Jack later referred to the florid writing style he had adopted in his teenage years and you can judge for yourself from the extracts to be displayed at the Chilli or by visiting the Jack Common Archive.

Jack Common is known for his working class Newcastle upbringing, his strong socialist beliefs and his friendship with George Orwell rather than his love of nature but a lot of his writing and especially the personal diaries in the archive show how much he cared about and knew about the natural world. He may not have acknowledged the influence of his Heaton boyhood or his education at Chillingham Road School but it’s a deep love which began in childhood and which the school log books show was shared by his head teacher, even if neither teacher nor pupil recognised it at the time.

War

Jack was ten years old at the start of the first world war. He refers to it only briefly in ‘Kiddar’s Luck’, writing through a child’s eyes:

‘One Saturday morning a rumour came round that the schools were to be commandeered as temporary barracks; a second report said that the soldiers were already in. Some of us tore round to have a look. Chillingham Road School stood bare and empty, a maw gaping for Monday. We back-pedalled round a corner so as to put it out of sight again, wishing we hadn’t come. But somebody passing on a bike said that North Heaton was taken. We moved off into the territory presided over by that semi-cissy academy, hunching together in case we got raided on the way.


It was true. North Heaton School echoed to the bawls of a couple of sergeants drilling their awkward squads in the boys’ yard….’

But the descriptions of the attitudes of the adults around him are enlightening as well as entertaining. Jack Common is typically unafraid to go against the grain or to offend. He refuses to romanticise and so adds to our understanding of a particular place and an important time:

‘But I had a feeling deep down that war wouldn’t apply to my father. I couldn’t see him waving a flag and leaping over a parapet, as the wild bugles blew, straight into the enemies’ fire; I could see him sitting firmly as ever in his own chair, pointing out that the war was a lot of fat-headedness started by old grannies and bosses-on-the-make and carried on by young fools who believed what they said in the newspapers.’

‘After the customary visit to the boozer, argument waged hot and strong. Uncle George, Boer War veteran, would join up at once – only there was no one to run his greengrocery business if he did. True-blue Uncle Will was hot against the Germans; he would throw in a couple of sons against them right away – the sons, though, did not endorse this generous patriotism. Red Uncle Robin, bachelor, vegetarian and crank, saw the conflict as a power-struggle between rival groups of bosses to be boycotted by all intelligent working men. Sad Uncle Andrew thought it was one of those madnesses good men have to go into because they couldn’t stand being with the crooks and sharpers who’d stayed out. Burly, gentle Uncle Bill knew no rights or wrongs in it, he had the countryman’s view, that it was a super-thunderstorm or tremendously bad weather – ‘Thor’s ne help for it, we’ll hae t’last it oot’. ‘

His presentation of dissident voices is another reason, if we need one, to read, reread, remember and appreciate Heaton’s Jack Common.

Postscript

‘Kiddars Luck’ is currently out of print but can be obtained in a Kindle version and from second-hand bookshops, online and in libraries.

More about Jack Common

This article was written by Chris Jackson, as part of Heaton History Group’s ‘Heaton Avenues in Wartime’ project, supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund. We would like to hear your views on anything relating to the article. You can leave them on the website by clicking on the link immediately below the title or email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

A related exhibition will be in the lounge bar of the Chillingham pub from 16 February to mid April 2015. It contains digital copies of documents from the Jack Common Archive at Newcastle University and Tyne & Wear Archives as well as illustrations by local artists.

The Poetry of Alex Robson

Alex Robson’s   (The Bard of Stratford Grove West) poems seem to divide into three broad types: celebrations of nature and the world around him; commemorations of people or events; patriotic verse.

Thanks to Alex’s grandson, Chris, and his wife, Janet, we have a number of very special copies written in his own hand and dedicated to members of his family.

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Here are more of Alex Robson’s poems that broadly represent his work.

 

CELEBRATIONS OF NATURE

 Britain Calling (March 1933)

Placid lochs and stately mountains,

Winding paths and sylvan glens –

Dreamy woods and whisp’ring valleys,

Fragrant moors and flow’ry fens,

Breathe the name of beauteous Nature

Thro’ a heart that knows no rest,

Calling, seeking to caress you,

To the bosom God has blest.

 

Nature, sweet enchanting Nature,

Bless’d with joyful heart and true,

Comes expressing living beauty

In an ever changing hue:

Virgin frills becoming springtime,

Summer robes of beaten gold,

But express the wondrous glory

Fairy arms so oft enfold.

 

 

Nature lends her heart to Britain,

Where she wanders day by day,

Thro’ each meadow, wood and valley,

By each mountain, loch and brae,

And thro’ her proud Britain’s calling

Those who seek a foreign host,

“Some embrace the British beauties!”

Which indeed have charmed me most.

 

Twilight (November 1929)

Across the sky with outstretched wings

Of ev’ry colour blest,

A mystic bird of paradise

Is speeding to the west,

Upon its wings the night gods ride

To yonder burning glade,

That they might crowd and give to earth

That sweet magenta shade.

 

If I Were King (November 1934)

If I were King of Winter-land,

I’d rule with frost and snow,

With something like a High Command –

A Sovereign Right; and so

Instead of dull, damp foggy days

I’d squander lots of wealth,

To give you snow and ice – you know –

The sort that’s rich in health.

 

I’d kill foul air, at any cost!

I’d bid my heralds sound

A “Royal Salute” for bold Jack Frost –

Indeed I’d spread around

A rich white carpet, soft and thick,

That he might come to you,

And lay his treasures at your feet –

That would be something new.

COMMEMORATIONS

In Memoriam (commemorating the death of Queen Alexandra – 1 December 1925)

 Alas, dear England, how my heart is moved,

Since heaven’s breath absorbs the flowing tears,

Shed by the great, the humble and the poor

For one whose soul a worldly heart endears.

 

Oh, England, ‘neath thy mournful veil ‘tis I –

A subject who would humbly kneel me down,

The while the dawn awakes a heav’nly home.

And God bestows a greater, brighter crown.

 

Far, far across each wide and boundless sea,

‘Twas lighting flashed, the solemn news to spread,

Till Empire stood in hushed solemnity

And visualised the spirit of the dead.

 

Oh, England, I am nearer, nearer thee,

With patriotism clothing we anew;

And something rising from my innermost soul,

Confesses much I felt I never knew.

 

‘Tis  such as this which draws from stagnant pools

The bubble of a pure and crystal stream;

And loyalty, one’s pride would feign disown

Makes clean the heart compelling pride redeem.

 

The bubble, multiplied by many more,

Soon bids a sea its living waters roll,

And ev’ry wave is but the heart and voice

Expressing sorrow o’er a Priceless Soul.

 

Our Wedding Day (to his wife celebrating their 33rd wedding anniversary, May 1938)

Another year of perfect bliss

Has urged my heart to pen you this;

A tribute to your own dear heart

In which I’m proud to share a part.

 

And may the God who made you mine

Continue long this love divine –

And spread in no uncertain way,

The sun that always bless’d this day.

 

The Wolves of Hades (published at the outset of World War 2 – December 1939)

One day the tongues of hungry wolves

Shall lick their own bones dry;

And trembling curse the fatal hour

When wolf by wolf shall die.

That day has come! And now unleashed

Are “Bull-dogs bred of old-

Nor leashed again until we know

The last mad brute is cold.

 

Far worse than Hell’s vile treachery,

This last infernal burst,

E’en shocked the powers of Hades,

And made the bull-dog thirst;

Thirst with the courage – and the will!

To play them at their game;

To fight with unstained jaws – and teeth –

Long gripped by acts of shame.

 

Oh, Poland, in your hour of need,

Comes Britain to your side,

And with her faithful neighbour

Shall stem the bloody tide.

And may the God who gives them breath

Give faith unto their cause,

Nor cease till men shall live in peace,

Till earth be rid of wars.

 

Till Hell shall flog its own fierce beasts,

And scatter in the dearth,

The remnants of the super haunts

That housed the scum of earth.

Till God shall smile on all mankind,

And souls rejoice on high,

As phantom legions tell of beasts

Who licked their own bones dry.

 

The Man of Destiny (dedicated to Winston Churchill May 1943)

When ill-prepared and menaced

And deadly war-clouds spread,

And nations fell despondent

Or trampled o’er their dead,

He li the lamp of trials,

And cast aside the mask

And bared our faces to our fate,

Nor trembled at the task.

 

He saw our cities burning,

Our meagre forces trapped,

But set the wheels aturning,

Till every field was tapped:

Till men and women – old and young –

Were wrought to finished steel;

Till hearts, unscathed, did forge the link

That bound the common weal.

 

Till in the faith of he who bore –

Who carries still – the load,

Who promised nought yet led them thro’

Each dark dramatic road,

They’ll march unwavering by his side

Long brighter roads ahead.

Till he has netted eve’ry fiend,

And ev’ry fiend is dead.

 

Then let us pray that he might live

To see the world made free,

And feel the joy of all who knew

The Man of Destiny.

Read more about Alex Robson here

Beers brothers at Tynemouth photo collage

The musical ‘spies’ of Tenth Avenue

On 11 August 1914, only a week after Britain had joined World War 1, newspapers right across a country on edge reported that two brothers ‘British born but of foreign extraction’ had been arrested and charged under the Official Secrets Act.

Beers brothers at Tynemouth photo collage reimagining

Photo collage reimagining by Heaton History Group member, Janet Burn

A young sea scout from North Shields said he’d seen them, along with a third man, direct a camera at the fortifications at Tynemouth. In court he said that at 7 o’clock the previous Sunday he had seen three men, two of whom were in the dock, proceeding along the sands towards the castle. One of them had a camera. They were playing with a ball. Afterwards they sat down in a circle. The scout said he was unable to see the camera at this point. He kept observation on them and afterwards saw them upon a seat. One of them put the camera on his knee and against his breast, pointing it towards the fortifications. He tried to conceal the camera with one hand. The scout added that he at once reported the matter and the men were arrested.

In the dock, the accused were asked if they understood English. ‘We ARE English’ was the reply. ‘We were born in Newcastle’. Asked about their occupations, the elder brother replied that he was ‘engaged at a picture hall in Newcastle’; while the younger said he was in a Whitley Bay orchestra. Both men were remanded in custody for eight days.

The following day they appeared in court again. The Chief Constable said that he had made careful enquiries. They were respectable young men and he asked that they be discharged. Nevertheless, the Mayor, Councillor Gregg, didn’t absolve the brothers from all blame. He said they had brought the trouble on themselves through their own foolishness: had they been more frank at the time, they would not have been in that position. Both young men thanked the magistrate and left the court.

Similar incidents were taking place all over the country. Everyone was nervous; people didn’t really know what form the war would take; there was, as yet, no trained ‘home guard’ and boy scouts, in particular, had been asked to help with the war effort by reporting anything suspicious. We might draw parallels with the aftermath of 9/11.

Who were the brothers?

The two young men were Leo Luke (25) and Aloysius Anthony (21) Beers of 18 Tenth Avenue, Heaton.

Cartoon by Robin Beers, Aloysius's grandson

Cartoon by Robin Beers, Aloysius’s grandson

As was eagerly noted in the news reports, they were indeed of ‘foreign extraction’. Their father Simon Hubertus Beers was Dutch, although he had lived in Britain for over 50 years, having been brought to Britain by his parents as a teenager. He had married a Liverpudlian, Elizabeth Hughes, and eventually settled in the North East. Simon too was a musician as was his father before him. His sister was a singer and at least one of his bothers was a musician too.

By 1891 the family (Simon, Elizabeth and three children Adrian, Hubert and Leo) were living in Heaton, at 30 Kingsley Place and by 1901, Elizabeth had died and the family had moved to 64 Meldon Terrace. Simon had been left with 6 children. On census night, 1901 Simon was at home with 3 of them and a housekeeper: Adrian, now 16 was described as a merchant’s clerk and Joseph (9) and Aloysius (7) were at school.

By 1911, Simon and the children still living at home, Leo (22), Joseph (19), Aloysius (18) and Bernard (17) were at 18 Tenth Avenue. They are all described as ‘professors of music’. Simon is said to be self-employed; Leo, Joseph and Bernard play in theatre orchestra and Aloysius is at this point out of work. Although the boys went their separate ways, Simon continued to live on Tenth Avenue for 20 more years. He died there on 6 February 1931 at the age of c86.

Leo’s story

Leo Luke Beers was born on 18 October 1888 and baptised ten days later at St Dominic’s on Shields Road. Beyond knowing that he grew up in a large and very musical household and that he lost his mother as a young boy, we know little of Leo’s childhood. However, online records and archival material afford us tantalising glimpses into his life following being branded, albeit briefly, an alien and a spy.

We don’t know whether the arrest and the attendant publicity was a factor but it wasn’t long before Leo left Newcastle. In September 1915, the Bath Chronicle, announcing the famous Pump Room Orchestra for the forthcoming season, introduced its new first violin: ‘Mr Leo Beers… has been the leader and principal violin of the Theatre Royal, Newcastle’.

Three months later, records show that Leo had enlisted for the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry. This was before the Military Service Act, 1916 introduced conscription and so presumably, Leo volunteered. However, two months later, in February 1916, by which time the Act had been passed, he applied for exemption from military service on personal and domestic grounds but asked for his appeal to be considered in private. The tribunal agreed and later announced that a temporary certificate of exemption on domestic grounds would be granted. That April, it was reported that Leo’s appeal had been heard privately by Bath City Tribunal but had been adjourned until 1 May for further enquiries to be made. Luke’s military record card shows only that he was discharged on 28 August 1918 ‘no longer fit for duty’.

The next glimpse we have is some nine years after the war ended, by which time Leo was 38 years old. On 17 June 1927, he set sail from Liverpool to Quebec as a member of the ship’s orchestra, returning two weeks later. Interestingly in the ten strong ensemble, there were two other musicians from Heaton: Vincent Caygill of 19 Heaton Grove and John Robert Young of 149 Rothbury Terrace.

Leo Beers in later life

Leo Beers in later life

Leo spent the latter part of his life living in London. He died in December 1975 in Kensington.

Wishy’s story

Aloysius Anthony Beers was born on 1 November 1892 and he was baptised on 13 November, also at St Dominic’s. Like his brother, Aloysius didn’t stay in Heaton long after the start of the war. By December 1915, he was living in Glasgow and was married to Margaret Paterson, a ‘mantle maker’. On 6 January 1916, just four weeks after their wedding, their son Adrian was born. Aloysius too played in a ship’s orchestra at one stage. He sailed from Glasgow to Montreal in April 1931.

Aloysius Beers (extreme right) with other members of a ship's orchestra

Aloysius Beers (extreme right) with other members of a ship’s orchestra

We know too that in the years following World War 2, the brothers were reunited again. For a time, Leo was living with Aloysius, Margaret and other family members in London.

It’s because his son became at least the fourth generation to inherit the Beers family’s musical talent that we can add some colour to the raw data from the archives. Aloysius was referred to in Adrian’s obituaries as ‘Aloysius ‘Wishy’ Beers, ‘a Glaswegian’ (though we know, of course, that he was in fact originally a Geordie!) double-bass player who taught his son to play cello, piano and double bass and played with him in Glasgow music halls. Adrian became a classical musician of the highest order. He played in world famous orchestras and ensembles and was a good friend of Benjamin Britten. The Melos Ensemble, of which he was a founding member, played at the 1962 premier of Britten’s ‘War Requiem’ in the newly rebuilt Coventry Cathedral on 30 May 1962, the original cathedral having been destroyed in World War 2.

Aloysius’s granddaughter, Jackie Khan, has kindly provided Heaton History Group with additional information about the family. She told us that that Leo and Aloysius’s elder brother Hubert was a musical hall artist who used the stage name Jock Macpherson.

Brother Joseph John Septimus Beers (born 8 April 1891) was, like Luke, a professional violinist until he enlisted with the 2nd Battalion King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. He died in active service on 10 July 1917. He is buried in Coxyde Military Cemetery in Belgium. Jackie said: ‘Joseph was killed in Flanders on the battlefield in 1917, found shell-shocked, sitting holding his hands over his ears, with fright on his face, dead’.

Sketch by Heaton History Group member, Mark James

Sketch by Heaton History Group member, Mark James

We don’t know whether Adrian’s father, Aloysius, was in the audience at the premier of ‘War Requiem’ but his son performing this powerful anti-war piece of music on such a symbolic national occasion will have been emotional for him, as he recalled not only his own wartime experiences but also his brother’s death.

Aloysius died just a few weeks later on 25 June 1962 at the age of 69. Adrian was awarded an MBE in 1990 for services to music and died in 2004.

Postscript

But that’s not the end of the story. The Beers musical genes have been passed down another two generations. Aloysius’s great-granddaughter and Adrian’s granddaughter is a very talented pianist and composer. Jean Beers has just spent a year as Composer in Residence at Eton College where she composed a piece of music for a symphony orchestra, commemorating World War One and inspired by the death of her great great uncle, Joseph John Septimus Beers.

Her aunt, Jackie Khan, who kindly found photographs of Leo and Aloysius and commissioned her brother, Robin, to produce a sketch especially for our website and exhibition, said; ‘They [the Beers of Heaton] would be very proud of her, as would her grandfather.’

Music continues to thrive in Heaton too, of course. Fittingly, there is even a well-established and still flourishing ensemble called ‘Tenth Avenue Band’, founded in 1988 at Chillingham Road School on the very avenue where the Beers had lived.

Heaton Avenues in Wartime

Heaton History Group has been awarded Heritage Lottery Fund funding to enable it to research and recount the impact of World War One on a Tyneside neighbourhood. If you would like to get involved by helping with research, illustrating the stories we uncover, mounting exhibitions or organising events – or if you have information relating to WW1, especially relating to Heaton, including First to Tenth Avenues, please contact: Chris Jackson, Secretary, Heaton History Group via chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

There is a related exhibition of original documents and artworks in the lounge bar of the Chillingham pub on Chillingham Road. It is planned to run until May 2016. The display will change approximately every two months.

Brewis business card

The photographer and his house

 

 

190 Heaton Park Road – or 94 as it was until renumbering in 1904 – was a one off. The three-storey double-fronted half-timbered facade still distinguishes it from neighbouring houses. And the balcony and iron railings, as shown in the photograph below, which dates from around 1910, would have left nobody in any doubt about the status of its owner. The photo is reproduced with permission of Newcastle City Library.

190 Heaton Park Road, c1910

190 Heaton Park Road, c1910

Built to order

However, it was the interior which made it unique. As you can see from these beautifully drawn plans, which can be viewed in Tyne and Wear Archives, it was designed for (or even by) Edward G Brewis and from the outset incorporated studios, a dark room and a print room among the usual living space. The exterior looks a little different from the photograph so either it was modified before being built or was altered later.

Plans for Brewis's house

Plans for Brewis's house

Edward George Brewis was born in Gateshead, the youngest child of a publican and his wife. Even at the age of 17, on the family’s 1881 census return, he was described as a ‘photographic artist’.

By 1890, by which time Edward was in his mid 20s, he was already running his own business at 10 New Bridge Street in Newcastle, premises which had previously belonged to the long-standing photography firm of Downey and Carver, the successor of the earlier partnership of W and D Downey. This was one of Newcastle’s oldest photography businesses (going back to the 1850s) so Brewis was continuing in a proud tradition. At this stage he was still living with his widowed mother.

But just five years later, Edward was the proud owner of one of Heaton’s grandest houses and operating his business from newly expanded premises at both 8 and 10 New Bridge Street, which he called ‘Victoria Art Studios’, and the new ‘Victoria House Studio’ in Heaton.

Portraits

Brewis was primarily a portrait photographer although on his fantastic business cards reproduced below, he called himself variously a ‘photographic artist’ and ‘portrait painter’.

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Brewis business card

He advertised that portraits could be enlarged to life size and painted in oil or water colour. Examples of his cabinet cards, which were so popular from the 1870s until well into the 20th century, can often be found on e-bay and in secondhand shops but the sitters are rarely identifiable. Check whether you have any Brewis portraits of family members in your attic – we’d love to see some.

The only Brewis photographs of which we currently know the identity of the sitter are two of Heaton’s world champion cyclist, George Waller, on which Brewis hastily applied for copyright in July 1900. They are, as a result, held by the National Archives. One is reproduced here.

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The reasons for this and other links between Edward George Brewis and George William Waller will be explored in a future article. Both men left their mark on Heaton and its history.

Short life

Amazingly Edward Brewis lived in his fantastic custom-built house for less than 5 years. By 1900, he was married with a daughter and living in Broomley near Bywell in the Tyne Valley. The young family moved house often at this time – from Stocksfield to Jesmond and then in 1906 to a house called ‘The Nook’ on Jesmond Park East in High Heaton. Their address at the time of Edward’s untimely death, in May 1908 at the age of 44, was in Warkworth but his business still operated from New Bridge Street. His success at a relatively young age was shown by the sum of over £12,000 he left in his will.

Postscript

The Edward Brewis photograph below of Eleanor Laverick nee Welford and was sent to us by her great granddaughter, Gillian Flatters.

Gillian told us that it was ‘lovingly watercoloured by my grandmother, Jessie Alexander Laverick. She did this to most of her back and white photos. Thanks to her other habit of keeping records, I can tell you the following about Eleanor:

Daughter of William Welford (Master Shoemaker) and Mary Ann Anderson, Eleanor was born at 5 Stepney Terrace, Newcastle on 05/01/1854. She married George Laverick in Aug 1877. At this time they lived in Ryton. Later moving to Ernest Street, Jarrow and Harvey Street, Hebburn. After Georges death in Nov 1902 she moved to Lyon Street, Hebburn Quay, where she kept a shop until she died there on 30 July 1930.

The only hint I have of a date for this picture is that as she appears to be pregnant in the photo it must have been taken after her marriage in 1877.’
EPSON scanner image

Eleanor  Laverick

 

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Edward Fordy

Micky Fordy wrote to tell us that the above photograph is of his 2xgt Grandfather Edward Fordy b 1837 Beadnell: ‘He was baptised Edward Scott but his father did a runner before he was born so he was brought up by his mother Elizabeth and her parents. As they were Fordy he took this as his surname.  But from 1851 or earlier Elizabeth was living with William Brewis , b 1810 to parents John Brewis and Mary Willis. John and Mary had other children including John b 1811. I believe this to be the father of Edward G Brewis. As far as I know Elizabeth and William never married (her death was recorded as Elizabeth Brewis in 1866) but Edward Fordy and Edward Brewis would have been regarded as cousins.’

John Duffy snr color tint photo c.1895

John Duffy c1895

The above photograph was sent to us by Godfrey Duffy, who said that is a hand tinted colour photograph of his grandfather, John Duffy, taken in about 1895 at the Heaton Park Road studio.

Can you help?

Do you have any photographs of local people by Edward Brewis?  If you know something about the subject, we’d love to see them. Email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

Jack Common plaque

Jack Common

Writer Jack Common was born on 15 August 1903 at 44 Third Avenue, Heaton, Newcastle upon Tyne. He attended Chillingham Road School. He is best remembered for his autobiographical novel, Kiddar’s Luck, which describes growing up in Edwardian Tyneside, and for the fact that his likeness was used by sculptor, Lawrence Bradshaw, for the bust on Karl Marx’s tomb in Highgate Cemetery, London. Jack Common died on 20 January 1968. He is commemorated by a plaque on the house where he was born.

Jack Common's birthplace

Jack Common’s birthplace

Jack Common plaque

Jack Common plaque

Chillingham Road School (1966)

Chillingham Road School (1966)

Karl Marx headstone

Karl Marx headstone

Reources on Jack Common

Jack Common archives
John Mapplebeck’s film Common’s Luck (1974)
Bloodaxe Books page
Wikipedia page

Talk about Jack Common

On 23 October 2013, Heaton History Group presented a talk on Jack Common by Keith Armstrong at Jack’s old school, Chillingham Road, to commemorate the 110th anniversary of his birth and the 120th anniversary of the school.

From 16 February – mid April 2015 there will be an exhibition about Jack Common in the Chillingham pub, as part of our Heritage Lottery Fund project ‘Heaton Avenues in Wartime’

Thank you to Newcastle City Library for the photograph of Chillingham Road School.