A
POTTED HISTORY OF
THE BATES
FAMILY
By
George Bates
INTRODUCTION:
The call
from a distant relation one evening asking for a run down on a particular
section of the family, was the first time that I had ever thought of delving
into the background of my family. Books were borrowed from the library and
contacts were established with the county records and reader tickets
obtained.
The hunt
was on! Use has been made of family photographs, old postcards, an Autograph
book, The Church of the Latter day Saints, visits to London and St. Catherines.
In fact you name it and I think we have tried it, and we are continuing to
investigate our ancestry.
Broadly
speaking this potted history starts off with George (me) born 1928 son of Ernest
and Violet Bates. The trace then goes back in time following the Bates line as
far as possible and the Rainford line likewise. Rainford of course being the
maiden name of Grandma Bates.
To make
a start; George Bates was born
4th.September 1928 to Ernest Bates and Violet Emily Bates. Ernest and Violet
were married at St Pauls Church Marton Blackpool on the 12th October 1927. There
is a photograph of this event both in press cuttings (wedding of the week) and
in the family album. Violet Emily Foot, who was living with her mother in
Milbourne Street Blackpool at this time, came from the south of England. She was
born at 1a, Woodlands Road Upper Norwood London SE 19. close to the Crystal
Palace. Mother, Violet Emily, was given away by Arthur Wright, her Uncle who was
married to and cousin of her Auntie Kate (not Katherine! just Kate), her mothers
sister. Their maiden name was Wiles which is the subject of further
investigations coupled, of course, with the name of Foot.
Ernest
was the eldest son of George and Margaret Alice Bates. They had three sons in
all after their marriage which was on 27th April 1897 at Christ Church Blackpool. Christ
Church was the Church at the corner of Queen Street and Maybel Avenue across
from the library. To my horror I found that it had been demolished and is now a
car park.
Grandma's
address on the marriage certificate is Albert Cottage. Nothing else but that!
After many weeks of painstaking enquiries we found that Albert Cottage was the
name given to flats in a section of the then Metropole Hotel. Grandpa's address
on the other hand was simple and straightforward: - 27 Yorkshire Street,
Blackpool. Their respective fathers, John Rainford and Thomas Bates were in the
first case a butcher, and the second a publican.
It is
interesting to note that the witness's to this match were William Grimshaw and
Bertha Grimshaw. The surname Grimshaw will crop up again.
George
and Margaret Alice Bates had, as already stated, three sons, Ernest followed by Harold and
later on George nicknamed Tudge. Harold who was born 3rd.December 1901 married
Doris Willman on the 26th. August 1927 and had two children Ruth Lois and Bernice
Patricia Alice, both of whom are married with families. Ruth became the wife of
Stanley Bainbridge and Bernice the wife of Edward King. The Kings emigrated to
Australia and the Bainbridge's, after touring with the County Constabulary, took
up permanent residence in Longton, Lancashire.
George
(Tudge) married late in life to Nancy Thompson and there were no children. The
wedding took place on 23rd September 1944 at the Blackpool Register Office, then
at Devonshire Square. Nancy, (and I am not absolutely positive about the
surname),
hailed from Warrington.
Again it
is interesting to note that Auntie Doris lived, before her marriage at 2a York
Street, Blackpool, which is only round the comer from Yorkshire Street. Harold was born in the Parish of All Saints and, as his brother was doing
at the time, lived at 27 Yorkshire Street in a butchers shop.
A thought for Ruth and Bernice! When did
their parents meet and of course where? Now the next astounding perhaps
coincidence is, according to the 1898 trade directory George Bates was a butcher
at 2a York Street and it was at the time of his marriage that he moved to 27
Yorkshire Street. It would be about 1903 that he moved lock stock and barrel to
59/61 Caunce Street.
George
Bates (Grandpa) then has turned up in Blackpool.
For my
part I always thought of myself as coming from a Lancashire background and
indeed vociferous in supporting Lancashire both on the rugby and cricket fields,
and at times have been overjoyed to wear a red rose. It came as a shock to find
that I was indeed a mongrel, and that Grandpa Bates was born in Ovenden,
Halifax, Yorkshire.
Little
things that happen in life:
I can, on
reflection, remember Tudge saying something about his "Dad coming from somewhere
over the Pennines, but it is something we don't boast about!" Now Grandpa Bates
was the eldest son of a family of at least seven children. Emily Bates who
married a George Robinson (farmer) at Newton with Scales was the seventh child.
Her father was also a seventh child, the eldest of twins. Now Grandpa Bates used
to spiel about the luck of a seventh child of a seventh child and I remember
being told how lucky Aunt Emily used to be especially in raffles and the such,
particularly at large events like the Farmers Ball, which used to be held
annually at the Empress Ballroom in the Winter Gardens. Emily had a daughter
who, after marriage, lived in Kirkham Avenue, Marton, Blackpool. I met her
on a visit to Gorse Road but, as with loads of other things, cannot remember
much about the occasion.
Emily, at
that time lived, with her husband in a bungalow on the main road at Newton,
running a little sideline after their retirement selling eggs and chickens.
Prior to retirement they were farmers in the village of Newton in general and at
Back House Farm, Back Lane in particular.
On
visiting Back Lane Newton, I found the farm was still there, but, it has had a
tremendous face-lift. It is now a palatial residence in the country. Terribly up
market.
I can
also remember Grandma Bates getting a little upset when relations of Grandpa
visited them from the south of England. So let's get back to what I have found
out. Whilst the general movement is backwards it makes life easier if one jumps
back a bit and then works forward. So here goes.
Thomas
Bates, Great grandfather, was born the eldest twin in Ovenden Halifax Yorkshire
in 1848 Thomas and James being the seventh and eighth child
respectively.
Their
parents were, as far as I can make out, John Bates and his wife Rebecca, nee
Longbottom. They had, between them, at least nine children. First of all they were
married at St. John the Baptist, parish church in Halifax on the 28th June 1832.
The rest goes as follows: - Daniel was born 1833, Hannah born 1835, Spencer
1839, Elizabeth 1841, Fielden 1842, Margaret 1844, Thomas and James 1848, John
1850.
Thomas
Bates married Emma Pickup (again at St. Johns, Halifax) on 31st October 1872 and
they had:- George Bates born 21st. April 1874 then Laurence born 1876, Emma
1877, Mary 1879, Foster 1880. I have a further visit to make to Halifax to follow
on with these births. Thomas Bates, when married, lived at 3 Sunny Bank Ovenden
and Grandpa Bates was born there. Thomas at that time was a stone quarrier.
Later on he became a milkman.
I think
that it was because of his wife Emma's death, that the family decided to up bags
and try to make their fortune at Blackpool. My first sight of Thomas in
Blackpool is when he married the widow Mrs. Hannah Grimshaw on 24th December
1891 at the Wesleyan Chapel Hounds Hill, Blackpool. Hounds Hill is the area
behind the Tower and up to the Winter Gardens, roughly.
At that
time he lived at 10, Sheppard Street and Hannah lived at 5, Sheppard Street. The
spelling is intriguing. Sheppard Street and Shepherd Street are one and the same
place. Shepherd Street was an L shaped
street behind the Co-operative Hall, Albert Road and Coronation Street corner. It
was a little street of boarding houses, no less. The Co-operative Hall had
another name, which I, for the life of me, cannot bring to mind. It has just come
back to me, The Co-operative Emporium, now demolished.
Again, I
cannot find any record, up to now, of them doing anything together. In fact in a
1898 trade directory I have found, just before the turn of the century, that
Thomas was the publican at The Church Inn Garstang and Hannah was still in
Sheppard St. Blackpool.
The next
reflection bit: I can remember when starting work in the Chorley area my
Father saying we, to the best of his knowledge, had some relations in Bretherton.
>From that snippet of information I, when working outside the parish church in
Bretherton many years ago, went in to look for Bates's but had no
success. However,
It is
recorded that; the Blue Anchor Inn at Bretherton was being looked after by a
Bates. In 1907, a James Bates was the victualler. In 1913 Emma Bates was the
victualler. Possibly James had died.
The more
astounding fact is that Hannah Bates of South Road, Bretherton, wife of Thomas
Bates died in Bretherton on the 26th.February 1919, Probate was granted to: - John
Brindle Grimshaw, furnisher, and William Brindle Grimshaw, plumber. She left
£409.2s.5d. which, in 1919, was well
over the price of a house. She was without doubt our Step-Great
Grandmother!
Now, the
mind boggles a bit at that! Was the James Bates at Bretherton the twin brother
of Thomas Bates? Don't know but with a bit of luck will find
out.
The next
happening on this branch of the family was the death of Thomas Bates (Great
grandfather) on the 28th. October 1920 at Back House Cottage, Newton with Scales.
Probate was granted to George Bates, Butcher, and George Robinson,
Farmer.
This
could tie up with cousin Ruth (Bates) remembering her visit to Newton with her
Father and seeing the then hovel type dwelling that Great Grandfather had lived
in some years before. I think that it was rather at the end of his life than at
the beginning. George and Emily Robinson’s marriage certificate will tell me
that.
Our
Grandfather, on arriving at Blackpool found, from what I can gather, a job as a
butcher's boy, met Grandma, and courted her.
Realising
that he would not be able to support her on the wage of a butcher's boy, he
decided that he would have to have his own business. To start a business, he had
to have cash, so for an unspecified period he travelled the country selling toys
in the local markets of Britain.
It would
appear that these business journeys always ended up in Blackpool during the main
part of the summer season. He had a stall on the Golden Mile adjacent to the
cannon, which had been removed from the wrecked Nelson's flagship (wrecked near
the north pier one stormy night), the Foudroyant. The cannon was outside The New
Inn, opposite the Palatine Hotel.
There
was a stall next to Grandfather's, which was run by a “Doctor” somebody or other
who sold horoscopes. He was, of course, there, complete with academic gown and
mortarboard. He had no more than thirty-one different horoscopes covering the
twelve-month period. This meant that if two people had the same birthday date
they would have the same prediction, whatever the month. If the interested
people were in the same party or man and wife even, it was part of this bloke's
charm to palm off onto the second person a reading for the following
day.
Another
weakness the “Doctor” had was a liking for the Catterall and Swarbricks beverage
sold at the New Inn. As soon as they were open he was in. If you were missing
when the 'market
inspector' for want of a better term, came round for his dues and demands for the
tenancy of the stalls, you lost your pitch. Grandfather
Bates used to don the cap and gown and look after the stall during the visit of
the 'inspector' and during the temporary absence of the Doctor. So from this I
was introduced to the spiel mentioned in connection with the note on Aunt Emily,
Grandad's sister "I am the seventh child of a seventh child and have been given
the power of being able to see into the future
At that
time, the area in front of the Tower was private and locked off at night.
Grandfather Bates did this locking up for a bob or two of course, everything
going towards the purchase of his first butchers shop, and the courting of
Margaret Alice Rainford.
Grandfather
had a total distrust of anything Welsh, this was born from this period in his
life. This little piece was straight from the man himself.
Whilst
selling on Cardiff market the locals were stealing from the back of his stall
faster than he could sell from the front. To cure this he bought, on the way to
his next stop, Merthyr Tydfil, two very expensive pad-locks. At Merthyr they
stole the locks as well.
He never
forgave the country or its people. He had to his dying day this hatred and used
to say "If you find a good Welshman, shoot him before he goes rotten".
Having said that, annually he visited the cattle and sheep market at Llanfair,
Anglesey and dealt with a Welshman, Red Collins "a dead wrong'un", who he didn't
trust, but thought the world of, and who, even in his retirement, when his sight
had almost gone, he visited on Anglesey, just for old time's
sake.
If we
can just for a moment, think about the Grimshaw connection. Thomas Bates, widower
married Hannah Grimshaw widow at the Hounds Hill Wesleyan Chapel, Blackpool on
24th December 1891. Around about 1895 they had a son christened,
Thomas. Thomas died of pneumonia in 1909 after catching a devastating cold,
having been caught in a storm on a cycle ride with
relations.
The
connection with the Grimshaw family has been maintained during the years. Jack
Grimshaw, a tailor, had the shop on the town side of the Caunce Street butchers
shop. Grandfather was the landlord and charged nominal rent. From their
marriage there were two children. Anna, nicknamed Billy, no less because of a whim
of an Uncle, and Barry who was killed in the 1939 war. Barry worked in the Caunce
Street butchers' shop. Billy helped for some considerable time in the
confectioners' shop at Egerton Road. Just lately I find there is an elder
brother who lives in South Shore Blackpool, I didn't see any point in chasing
him.
Anna
(Billy) lives at Blackburn with her husband Ricky. Their two daughters, both
married with families live nearby.
Let us
have a look at Grandfather Bates. I can first remember Grandfather Bates when I
lived at 267 Talbot Road, Layton, Blackpool. He used, during the summer months
to pick me up and take me on Mondays to the Poulton cattle market at the rear of
the Golden Ball. On Tuesdays to the Brock cattle market and Fridays on the run
through the Fylde delivering meat and buying eggs, poultry and rabbits for sale
in the Caunce Street shop.
I can
well remember the lunches, which could be bought for a little over a shilling in
the pubs adjacent to the cattle markets, particularly on market day. A roast
sirloin of beef with gravy was on the centre of the table, boiled and roasted
potatoes, sometimes a mixture of carrots and turnip. The whole lot was followed
by a huge chunk of apple pie and washed down with a great mug of tea. You cut
your own meat off the joint.
The
Friday round was quite something. The van was packed with meat chosen for the
prospective customers by Grandfather. Also packed into the van and usually in
various buckets you could find offal etc. for the various working dogs, which
were to be found on the estates that we visited in the Fylde. The first stop
invariably was for petrol at the River Wyre Filling Station, and then over Shard
Bridge were we picked up numerous rolls of pennies. One pounds worth to a roll,
change for the shop till.
The
first stop was at a farm on the right, the first large farm on the other side of
the river. the farmer was Lincoln Lownes. The farm has always stuck in my
memory. It was the cleanest farm I had ever seen. It was hosed down inside and
out every day.
The next
stop was at old Bills. A little cottage that had once been thatched but had now
sunk to having a corrugated iron roof. Bill lived by himself and had meat
delivered on Friday lunchtime. He sat waiting for the van in a dingy little room
lit at night by an old paraffin lamp. The place was never clean and I don't
think Bill washed that often.
Behind
was an orchard that was, at the appropriate time of the year, filled with
fantastic apples and juicy pears. Eggs were produced free range in profusion, and
I don't think much money changed hands. It was all done on a bartering
arrangement.
Bill did
leave his cottage, but only once a year. That was on Michaelmas day. On that day
I am lead to believe, he got up very early, dressed in a dark suit with top hat
and walked to Great Eccleston where he got transport in some shape or form to
Preston.
At
Preston he visited the hiring fair, for no other reason than he had visited the
fair from as far back as he could remember. He made this journey until his dying
day, in fact I think that this journey was as far as he ever travelled
throughout his life.
I can
remember him, as an old man being attacked by a bird, perhaps a starling going
for his face and eyes. Bill hit and killed the bird with one swipe of his
walking stick. I don't think I have seen anybody move as fast in my
life.
The next
call was at George Bell’s place. There was a man to be reckoned with. From
memory, I think cousin Ruth and Bernice used to spend some time on the farm with
his daughter, Joan who was around the same age.
George
Bell was renowned for his ability to train sheep dogs and when he trained them
they were first class. If, however, the dog did not respond to the training it was
not beyond the realms of possibility for him to shoot the dog. Whether it
belonged to him or not.
Sometimes
from George Bell’s the route took us to Winmarleigh and to a farmer who dealt in
game. It is only this year that I passed this particular farm. It stands out in
my mind that there was a particular field sheltered from the north by a thick
copse that was just one mass of pheasant. Not now, although the green field is
still there.
Right at
the top from George Bell’s took us to two more visits. Jackson’s on the left for
eggs, I think he got his meat from the co-op, much to Grandfather’s
disgust, and Jemson’s Farm, Hoskinshire on the right.
Mrs.
Jemson at Hoskinshire used to bake on a Friday. She had the longest stone slab-
topped table I have ever seen, and on Friday at mid-day it had at one end newly
baked bread and at the other end plated fruit pies. A point that always sticks
in my mind was that when you were asked "would you like a pie?" Mrs. Jemson
meant just that and you got one, and on a dinner plate
too!
Over
Cartford bridge, and paying the toll which was three times as much as that for
the Shard bridge. Sometimes, before going up Cartford hill, we would walk into the
fields along the south side of the Wyre to look at sheep grazing on land rented
to the Laycock family, Eric, in particular. I believe Grandfather had
purchased the lambs (from Anglesey) and sold them to the Laycocks, hence his interest from time
to time to see if they were ready for the abattoir. The top of Cartford hill
brought us to the smithy on the right. If we had not had the pleasure of a pie
at Mrs. Jemson’s we were now offered sustenance in some form or other. When
Grandfather became diabetic in the thirties this stop changed somewhat! he used
to drink a pint of buttermilk here. I was introduced to it somewhat unwillingly.
In later years the introduction came in very useful at boarding
school.
Next
stop was at a cottage on the hill on the Blackpool Road, west of Great Eccleston.
Eggs again were purchased and meat provided before we turned back and diverted
to Little Eccleston Hall Farm.
It was there in the thirties that they had towns water installed and dispensed with the
use of the old pump which they had used from time immemorial. Within a very
short space of time the family were incarcerated in the fever hospital at
Blackpool with scarlet fever. So much for towns
water?.
Our
journey then took us via the outskirts of Elswick (remember the Boot and Shoe or
perhaps the Ship) in a westerly direction to Thistleton were one call was made
to a farm on the left. On the odd occasion we would call in at the local and
only shop for eggs, but this did not happen often as the shop keeper wanted top
price. "a robber".
We then
took the road towards Kirkham. Stopping at the little shop at Corner Row, where
I was introduced to a bottle of pop made by Singletons which did not taste half
as good as the Clining and Almond brew which I was accustomed to. Right into
Back Lane at Greenhalgh to a ginger haired fast talking and fast dealing Irish
lass living with her family in a little cottage on the
left.
On then
into Weeton. He supplied meat to Mrs. Long and family, the first cottage on the
left on the Kirkham Road. He also called at Bradleys farm on the right, this was
usually to pick up some chickens, sometime alive and sometimes dead. Always dead
before they were put into the van.
There
was a farm we visited in Weeton, which had and has had since, a tragic history
in that the family have suffered some awful deaths.
Then two
stops were made, one at a gamekeeper’s cottage between "Hell fire corner" and
Singleton where a bucket of offal was left for the gun dogs. Soft slushy stuff
that would not harden their mouths. The final stop was at Nathaniel Mortimer’s
the head keeper for the Singleton Estates. He was a special, a keeper in every
shape and form, feared neither man nor beast, always dressed in shooting tweeds,
always interesting to listen to, and always a pleasure to visit. Some of his
relations live at Ulnes Walton, south of Preston and are experts in the field of
shire horses, breeding, showing and judging.
We then
made our way home, me to Talbot Road, and Grandfather to Gorse Road. It can be
said, without any shadow of doubt, that Grandfather Bates a butcher by profession,
cattle and sheep dealer, businessman, was, at heart, a man of the
country.
I cannot
ever remember being bored in his company when we were out in the Fylde. He
appeared to see things moving about here and there just seconds before they
started to move.
Now
whilst he was at the Caunce Street shop he became interested (through his
contacts at the Wainright Conservative Club in Victoria Street), in Kings Road
Garage, St. Annes. This, in its day was a very large garage, in that you could go
in and drive round the place. One could say, modern in design. The working bays
were each like individual garages in themselves.
The
garage was looked after by a manager. Grandfather and people like Hargreaves
Bateson and others were the directors. It was possibly about this time, being
run down from money shocks and the like that the sugar problem
arrived.
Around
the mid-thirties 126/128 Egerton Road shops were bought, 126 was the butchers
and 128 the pork butchers and cooked meats. Uncle George (Tudge) looked after
this and I think that it was placed for the supplying of meat to the hotels in
the area. Caunce Street shop, on the other hand, supplied small boarding houses
and the like.
It is
interesting to note that at this time most of the professionals at the summer
shows lived in the Caunce Street area. The Carollies spring to mind. Arthur
McAvoy (Frank Randle) who went to Devonshire Road school with Father was
another. Later he moved to Whitegate Drive. The chorus lines and also fans from
the Palace theatre were there in huge numbers.
Granddad
was, I have heard from sources other than family, a formidable solo whist
player. He, with butchers: Cockers, Laycocks, Birtwistles, Heywoods and others
wouldn't say no to a day at the races. The Reverend 'Billy' Evans (Vicar of St
Marks Layton) before he took unto himself a wife, went with them from time to
time.
There is
a story that, after a day at Chester races, they were returning, having had a good
return for their investment. They were accosted on the train by a card sharp who
proceeded to relieve them of all their money. Billy Cocker, a short stocky man,
on the train leaving the station at St. Annes pulled the blinds up at the carriage windows
an indicated that if the money was not returned forthwith he would personally
work the bloke over before handing him over to the police at Central station.
The man left the train at Squires Gate station and returned all his ill gotten
gains. Heaven knows what could have happened if he hadn't been so
agreeable.
After
criticising the idiots who hit and chased a small white ball round a course for
pleasure, Grandad took up golf and, wherever he went on business, his clubs went also.
Scotland was the market from where he bought a lot of cattle and also played on
many courses.
After
the 1918 armistice and the return to civilian life of his eldest son (Father), I
don't think he spent a full week in any shop.
During
the 1914-18 war Grandfather was enrolled as a Special Constable in the Borough
of Blackpool. The only thing he did of note was to follow and arrest a
pickpocket in the underground toilets in Talbot Square, from where the Layton and
Marton trams used to start.
Father,
funnily enough, taught him to drive. “Funnily enough” because whilst my Father
had a driving licence, to his dying day I never saw him
drive.
The car
was bought, and after one lesson, Grandfather drove to Belle Abri, Gorse Road.
Grandma was in the garden. Grandfather shouted at the top of his voice "come on
Mrs. I'll take you for a run,' the reply was firmly in the negative! Grandfather
retorted "I'll sell the damned thing then." Happily he didn't, and they both
spent many happy hours motoring around England, Scotland and
Wales.
