Elizabeth Ann Jackson was born in Burnley, Lancashire, third of the seven children of Morpeth Garrard & Mary Ellen ( nee Calvert) Jackson. Her birthday was the 25th November, the same day as that of her father and a date that would prove to be significant in her life. Lizzie was more handsome than pretty but she was a strong, independant and capable woman who left a great impression on my life.
As was common at that time, Lizzie (as she was known to many), began working in the cotton mills of Burnley as a young girl. Life was not easy for working class mill-workers but Grandma often spoke of fond childhood memories of the little things... like making toffee at the end of washday. Her mother, Mary Ellen, was considered delicate, suffering from pernicious anaemia, which eventually killed her at a young age. Her father, Morpeth, also worked in the mills as a tenter, which was basically a mechanic who "tended" a number of looms, making sure that they kept on turning. The tenter's pay depended on the production of the looms under him and at one stage was tenter for those that my gran worked. She was very skilled on the looms, reaching the position of "six loom" which was a difficult, skilled and respected position. She would amuse me as a child with tales of "yee-yawing", a skill in which she was very adept. The mills were very noisy and those that worked there had tolearn to yee-yaw, a form of lip-reading, so they could communicate with each other over the noise.
However, things began to deteriorate in the family. The eldest son John was killed in World War I in Mesapotamia (now Iraq)on his 21st birthday. Mary Ellen, the mother, died of pernicious anaemia, leaving Morpeth with his children to care for. He married again, a relatively short time after, presumably to provide his youngest children with a mother figure.
His new wife was a widow who had inherited a comfortable amount of money and soon Morpeth and she moved to Bispham, near Blackpool, where Morpeth began working in his own business as a carter.
There was some friction between the elder children and the new wife though whether this was a personality clash or some sort of resentment against the step-mother we shall never know. There were references to "the wicked stepmother" and whatever the reasons, there was no love lost between her and the elder children.
Fanny, the eldest daughter, married the nephew of the stepmother and Ellen Grace, the third daughter, went to work as a companion to a relative's blind mother. The relative was "Uncle James Sagar Holden" and became an important figure in the lives of the Whittam children.
Lizzie, by now, was in her late teens and working away from home in a munitions factory in the midlands, being estranged from her father.
One day she received a telegram to tell her that her father had died. Morpeth Garrard had committed suicide, by cutting his throat, in the attic of his place of work in Charles St, Blackpool. His death was rarely ever mentioned within the family. According to the limited reports that are available today, his death was certified on the 26th November 1923, the day after the date that he and Lizzie shared as a birthday. From what I can piece together from the reports and what little was said in the family, it would appear that Morpeth's second marriage was not made in heaven. After a domestic row on the Friday, he packed his bags and went to stay in the attic above his business and his body was not discovered until the Sunday morning, by his business partner. The death certificate states that the balance of his mind was disturbed and I can only imagine him sitting alone and morose on his birthday, thinking of his eldest son who had been killed only a few years before, his eldest daughter with whom he shared a birthday and from whom he was estranged, an unhappy marriage and deciding that his life was a mess. There may also have been another element to his state of mind and that concerned his three youngest sons.
Morpeth's second wife did not want to be a mother figure to his children and his youngest sons who were still living at home were sent to work on a farm as child labour, quite a few miles away. I dont know whether this happened before or after Morpeth's death but if it happened before it could only have added to his despair.
After receiving the telgram, my grandmother returned to Lancashire and set about tracking down her young brothers. She finally found them on a farm near Preston, in her words "barefoot and raggy arsed". She took her brothers Harry, James & Sagar back with her to Burnley and set about finding somewhere for them to live.
There was no money and she turned to "Uncle James Sagar Holden" who was the illegitimate son of a great aunt. Uncle James Sagar was comfortably off, reputedly the son of the owner of a local billiards works, and he helped her find somewhere to live and lent her money to buy furniture and other necessities. Grandma raised her younger brothers and saw them through their education. With the sponsorship of Uncle James Sagar, Harry was seen through university and went on to become a chemical engineer before emigrating to Canada and then the US. Lizzie finally married my grandfather Frederick Whittam, a local lad who had joined the East Lancs regiment (Lilywhites)as a boy soldier. He had risen through the ranks, seen two world wars, receiving promotions in the field and off. They bought a house and began a family which she effectively brought up single-handedly, with my grandfather being away so much. She also had her brothers still living with her until they finally married.
The trials that grandma had to go through hadn't ended though. She had three children, two girls first and then a boy. The boy, Harry Morpeth died whilst in his thirties from radiation poisoning. He had developed and cancer and because of his youth and the relative medical ignorance of radiation treatments at that time, the doctors decided to give him increased doses of radiation. Uncle Harry died an unpleasant death after many years of radiation sickness, with all the problems that that entails and my grandma nursed her son at home until the end. I can remember Uncle Harry's illness and deterioration and that alone gave me cause to admire my grandmothers strength of character and determination.
The picture of grandma shows her wearing a fox fur collar. When Harry Jackson went off to America he wrote and told his elder sister that he wanted to buy her a fur coat. Ever practical, grandma turned the offer down saying that she would never have the opprtunity to wear it. Harry took this on board and instead sent her the collar that she is wearing and she was so proud of it. Almost as proud as she was of how her three younger brothers had turned out.
Seventy five years after Morpeth Garrard Jackson's death, I decided I wanted to know more about the father that my grandmother loved but rarely mentioned. All I really knew about him was that he was as bald as a billiard ball, always wore his cap to hide his bald head and, when he had hair, it had been red. It took a lot of searching but finally I found him buried in a forgotten corner of Bispham churchyard. There is no gravestone, nothing to mark his passing. As a tribute to my grandma and the father that she loved, a simple headstone will shortly be erected to mark where he lies.
I have some wonderful childhood memories of my grandma but most of all, I admire her strength of character, and determination. I only hope that I can grow to be half the woman that she was.
