52 Ancestors - Ephraim Womersley and his brushes with the Grim Reaper

As someone who is fairly new to this genealogy lark, I'm still finding my way around how to flesh out the story behind a few dates and census entries.  But I am getting the distinct impression that my 3 x great grandfather Ephraim Womersley was a bit of a character. 

For this is a man who diced with death not just once but twice, and who, after a fight outside his house, sued a man - and quite possibly the wrong man! - for breaking his ankle.  There are some who said he was drunk at the time - surely not....

None of this really shows through his "normal" record.  The various censuses show him as starting his working life as a weaver before finding what seems to have been his niche in the brewery industry.  He worked his way up from labourer at a brewery to a brewers' agent, and then brewer, and it seems he ran at least a couple of pubs or inns along the way as well.  I must admit to being somewhat puzzled by his apparent move to tea dealing for a while before going back to brewing - maybe he thought it would be more lucrative?


Ephraim was born in Kirkburton, Yorkshire, in 1821, married Ann (nee Spivey) in 1840, and had two sons Henry and Ephraim, and five daughters - Martha, Ann, Ellen, Ada, and my great great grandmother Sarah.

It seems that at one point he ran the Bull's Head at Fulstone, and perhaps another in Bay Hall, Huddersfield. He almost certainly worked at New Mill Brewery - the brewery gate, through which I expect Ephraim passed many, many times, is pictured below.

It was the records from the Huddersfield Chronicle that helped give me an insight into the man behind the facts.  in 1856, the paper reported his first brush with death. I love the language used in newspapers back then, so different from journalism today:

"Accident - Yesterday week a sad occurence befell a man in the employ of Messrs Bentley and Shaw, brewers, of New Mill, called Ephraim Womersley, innkeeper.  The poor fellow was driving a horse and cart from the brewery and had got to Lydgate, when the animal became restive and ungovernable; and in the attempt to master the unruly horse, the driver got sadly crushed in the chest, having been forced between a wall and the wheel of the cart.  He was conveyed home and medical aid procured, doubts being entertained of his life.  We are glad to say he is now progressing toward recovery."

Fourteen years later in September 1870 he was travelling in a gig which "came violently into collision" with a cart. He and his fellow traveller were "precipitated over the back of the vehicle to the ground".  While his friend escaped pretty much unhurt, Ephraim was "removed to the inn in a state of unconciousness, and it is feared he is suffering from concussion of the brain, and is in a dangerous state."  Since he lived for another 23 years, I think it's fair to say he probably recovered from his concussion.

As for that fight - well, that really is a twisted tale.  The short version is that clearly Ephraim and his wife Ann got into a bit of a scuffle outside their house in Bay Hall, Huddersfield.  This was because someone had either kicked their dog for no reason, or the dog - a "large bull and retriever" had tried to bite someone and got kicked in self-defence.  In defending the dog the wife was kicked, in defending the wife the husband was kicked!  The kick broke Ephraim's ankle - which the report notes was only covered by a stocking - and he was out of action for eight weeks.

I say "someone" kicked the dog because the person originally taken to court for this swore it was someone else, and the case was re-opened. Ephraim still won the case but the report was unclear as to which defendant the judge decided was to blame.  Ephraim's compensation was £12, about £550 in today's money.

Despite his various brushes with death and injury, Ephraim outlived both of his wives and died in October 1893, aged 70.

52 Ancestors - The Black Death

When I started my family history quest, I never dreamed I would be able to get as far back as I have.  But, due to a bit of determined persistence (something I suspect all successful family historians possess), I got past a particularly stubborn obstacle, and then got lucky with a complete set of parish records and ancestors that stayed put.

Generation upon generation of my ancestors lived in Mirfield, perhaps best known now for being the childhood home of actor Sir Patrick Stewart.  Unfortunately, the West Yorkshire town is also known, at least in the history books, for having lost many of its inhabitants from the bubonic plague in 1631.

Back then, my tenth great grandparents - Thomas and Alice Barker, and William and Mary Swindin, were living in Mirfield, quite possibly earning their living from the town's already flourishing woollen industry, or maybe off the land.  It is hard to imagine the helplessness and terror they must have felt on hearing that the Black Death had reached the town.

The records from St Mary's Church, Mirfield, clearly show when this was.  April 1631:   "Buried - a poor woman being a stranger named Elizabeth Prince xxvth day which was suspected to bring playge to towne."

Eighteen days later, the records read:  "Buried - Jenet Fraunce Widdow the xiiith day beinge the first pson after the foresayd stranger wch died of playge.  The number of those yet died of the fearefull visitacon from which good Lorde deliu'vs , is centu' et triginta."   One hundred and thirty people dead, at least 49 families directly affected, in just three months.  Three months of wondering if you and your family would be next.  Of having to try and live a normal life, while walking past houses stricken with the deadly disease.  Of  having to see friends unceremoniously buried in communal pits.  It defies description.

Yet my tenth great grandparents, Thomas and Alice, William and Mary, lived through it.  They managed to keep their families safe and well, and so I am glad that I have had the opportunity to help keep the memory of them and their struggle alive.

52 Ancestors: Never was so much owed by so many to so few

James Clarence Doughty 1923 - 1944 

My great uncle Jimmy was only 20 when he died in WW2.  He was a private in the Leicester Tigers Regiment, and fought in the Battle of the Schedlt in Belgium.  Often billed as one of the forgotten battles of WW2, it was led by the Canadians and is considered one of the most important and bloody campaigns the Canadians ever fought - although of course there were other Allied forces fighting there too.

By September 1944, it had become urgent for the Allies to access the port of Antwerp.  The Allies needed to keep their troops adequately supplied, especially as winter approached, and Antwerp was seen as being an ideal landing ground for those supplies.

The problem was that although the city of Antwerp had fallen to the British, the docks had not been cleared, and the River Schedlt, which led to the port, was strongly held by the German Army.  

Great Uncle Jimmy fought in combat on the Breda Road, about 25km from Antwerp, over four days in October 1944   His comrade and best friend Raymond Pell wrote a book on the subject, entitled Tigers Never Sleep.  Raymond and a wounded comrade became cut off from their lines, and were trapped in the cellar of a house belonging to a Belgian family.  German soldiers searched the house, but did not find the two soldiers hidden beneath a pile of mattresses, which apprently had a plump farmer's wife perched on top of it.

Later that night, Raymond and his comrade managed to make it back to the lines under cover of darkness. 

He says in his book:  "Later our sergeant returned with a job for us to do, unfortunately not a pleasant one.  It had been reported that there were a couple of lads in a ditch about 300 yards back down the road we had come along .... he wanted us to pull them out and lay them on the side of the road for the first aid truck to pick them up."

Using a hedge and some low buildings as cover, they eventually found their comrades.  "We could not tell who they were as they were both face down in the water.  We dragged them to the side and after about fifteen minutes we managed to get the first lad up the bank and onto the road.  To my utter horror when we turned him over I recognised him as being my best friend Jimmy, in fact he had been my best man at my wedding the February before.  The shock was tremendous and stunned me for a few seconds."


James Doughty was buried on the road just outside Wuustwezel on the Antwerp Road, together with many of the other fallen Leicester Tigers.  They were later moved to Geel Military Cemetary, where Jimmy now rests in grave reference III.D.24.  My aunt - Jimmy's niece - visited the grave several years ago.

The photo of Jimmy is taken from a photo from my Grandmother and Grandfather's wedding in Wakefield in 1942 - it seems he was best man at this wedding too.

*With thanks to Marilyn Lawrence, who carried out the original research on Jimmy.


 

I can't remember when I first became interested in my family history.  It certainly wasn't when I was young - all those tales of old used to bore me stupid.  How I wish now that I had actually paid some attention, maybe even written some of those stories down!

I think it began when I was given some old family photos.  My journalistic instincts made me want to know more - who were these people, what did they do, what were their stories?  And so about eight years ago I started some reseach.  But time was short, and online resources weren't what they are now, so the project was shelved.

Now it has been well and truly dusted off, and I am having a great time tracing my ancestors back through the years.  Most of them were purely working class - factory workers, miners, general labourers.  They were certainly a fecund lot - I have a LOT of ancestors to investigate!  And fortunately for me, most of them seem to have lived a long time.

Last week, I stumbled upon this blog http://www.nostorytoosmall.com/, which challenges family historians to write about one ancestor a week for 52 weeks.  I am somewhat late to the party, but hopefully I am fashionably late and can still make a contribution to the fun.

So, from Monday onwards, the plan is to write about one of my ancestors each week. However ordinary their lives were, they almost certainly still did extraodinary things, whether it was coping with the premature deaths of most of their children, living through the plague or emigrating to Canada - and yes, those are stories I plan to include.  Watch this space!