a) The 'Strange Confession' of the Distraught Mum

   It is no use me saying anything.  I have done the deed.   

   The strange confession of Mrs. Walton quickly leaked out in the
neighbourhood, and occasioned a sensation.   

Sarah was then taken to St.Helens Town Hall where she was interviewed by Chief Constable James Wood and later charged with wilfully drowning her children and transferred to Walton prison. At the resumed inquest on June 8th, John Walton, who'd been married to Sarah for 27 years, described his wife as a devoted mother who until the first inquest had always decribed the loss of her two children as an accident.

Sutton's Sergeant Jackson then gave evidence that he believed Sarah was suffering "very great mental distress" when she'd made her self-incriminating statement of drowning her daughters and so the jury decided to return an open verdict. This saga was brought to an end on June 15th when the case against Sarah Walton was discharged at St.Helens Police Court. Town clerk G.W. Bailey had forwarded all depositions in the case to the Solicitor to the Treasurer who felt that she was under a hallucination when she confessed to drowning her girls. The devoted mother had spent 16 days in custody, mainly in prison, but finally justice was done although her ordeal was not quite over.

Although returned to her family by the courts, Sarah is thought to have spent a long time in Rainhill Asylum, recovering from the mental trauma, before eventually returning home. If you can furnish further details of exactly what happened to Sarah after 1900, please do contact me. Just maybe there's a happy story waiting to be told!

b) The Legendary Curse of St. Annes Well

Upon arrival at the holy well, the prior found that Darcy was waiting for them and was clearly known to the commissioners. The steward sneered at the priest, who was so enraged by his actions that the prior had to be held back from attacking him. He's then said to have cursed Darcy in the name of St.Anne, predicting that he would be dead within a year and a day. The steward to Thomas Bold then walked away, laughing contemptuously, as Father Delwaney collapsed into the arms of one of his monks. He was removed to the cottage over the well but despite the attention of a 'human leech', was dead in 3 hours.

The king subsequently granted Hugh Darcy the farm on which the well stood and he demolished the building over it. For a while everything seemed to be going well for him but within three months of Delwaney's death, the steward's only son died of a mysterious illness. Soon afterwards, the bereaved father suffered financial losses through poor investments and he subsequently took to drink, which cost him his job with Thomas Bold. One night after a heavy drinking session at a tavern near Micklehead, Darcy walked back to his home in Rainhill. However, he never arrived and in the morning his concerned wife woke their neighbours who searched for him. The shortest road home was a footpath by St.Anne's Well and Hugh Darcy's body was found in the waters with his head crushed in.

So the curse of the prior had come true and the former warden had received his just deserts. Alternatively, Fr. Delwaney may have had a heart attack and Darcy's son may have died from a childhood disease, that afflicted so many youngsters in those days. Plus the highly intoxicated Darcy may have fallen into the well, caving in his head in the process. Coincidences and simple explanations are not, of course, as romantic a chain of events as the retribution of a deceased monk. It all depends on how much you believe in myths and legends! In recent times there's been an archaeological dig to study the remnants of St.Annes Well, although the precise location of the former priory is unknown at this time.

c) The Tragic Demise of Sutton Nash's 'Owd Tolly'

When Arthur Helsby was laid to rest in Sutton Churchyard on July 10th, 1930, a huge crowd of over 2,000 mourners sang 'Abide With Me' led by Rev. W. E. Colegrove. The Vicar of Sutton eulogised over the man who'd been a music teacher at Sutton National Schools for almost three decades and had also been the choirmaster and organist at All Saints Church in Ellamsbridge Road for many years:

   He is lovingly lamented. There are not scores, but hundreds, who are thankful they knew him...His friends have lost one who was constant and true - one with deep insight and true sympathy, one who made life sweeter through knowing him.     (St.Helens Reporter 11/7/1930) 

However, there were some who would take issue with the vicar's words, especially Frank Bamber who was taught by Arthur Helsby between 1917 to 1924. In his memoirs 'Clog Clatters of Old Sutton', he wrote of his time at Sutton 'Nash':

   They were a grand lot of teachers in our boys school, now I reckon they will all have passed on, "God bless them all". But there was one exception, none of us liked him and some hated him...he was always referred to by the name of "Owd Tolly" amongst all us boys.  

Helsby's nickname of 'Owd Tolly' came from a song in one of his music lessons called 'Toll For the Brave', an eighteenth century march by George Frederick Handel and William Cowper. Frank described how on one Monday morning, the children at 'Sutton Nash' arrived at their Ellamsbridge Road school to find that someone had scrawled "Tolly Is Daft", in large, white, chalk on the playground walls. This was at a time when graffiti was rare and a furious headmaster Frank Plews announced that he would flog the culprit in front of all the school, if he discovered who he was.

In his memoirs written in 1987, Frank related how he and his classmates were fearful when told that they were moving up into Standard VII, Mr. Helsby's class, as he had quite a reputation for using the strap on his pupils if they couldn't answer his questions. Soon Frank's fears were realised:

  ...he said "hold out your hand, Bamber, I cannot waste time on you" and with that he hit me across the hand and then said "Hold the other one out", he hit me again with force and when I leaned forward to hold my hands together and then place them under my armpits, he struck me across the back and continued along the class giving others a single strap across the hand when they failed to describe the correct note. I well remember that lesson, there was more weeping than singing that lesson.  

Arthur Helsby had been born in 1873, the fourth of seven children, to wheelwright father Francis and mother Alice. In 1881 they were living in Mill Lane and in 1891 at 10 Grimshaw Street where they also kept a grocer's shop, with Arthur listed on the census return as an 18-year-old pupil teacher.

In 1901 he married Louisa Ann Bate and they lived at 192 Robins Lane where they had three boys. Initially he taught at the junior school at Sutton National in Ellamsbridge Road before transferring to the boys school. Helsby rose to become the deputy to longstanding head-teacher James Plews and ran the choir and played the organ at All Saints Church.

Joan Heyes (née Williams), who now lives in Sydney, used to visit All Saints after school to listen to the organ being played. She lived with the Withington family, to whom she was related, initially in Ellen Street and later in Mill Lane. Emily Withington received private organ lessons from Mr. Helsby on Thursday afternoons. Joan, now 93-years young, recalls regularly climbing the church steps and standing at the side of the long bench that Emily sat on. Tutor Arthur Helsby stood at the other end of the bench but never acknowledged Joan's presence in any way.

Depite his unpopularity with some, 'Owd Tolley' was so well-known and had participated in so many aspects of Sutton life that it came as a huge shock to the local community when word spread of his death. The St.Helelens Reporter said the news of his suicide had caused "a sensation". Fifty-eight-years-old Helsby had walked from his Robins Lane home to Marshalls Cross Road bridge, then made his way down to the railway line before lying down on the tracks in front of an oncoming engine.

Coroner Sam Brighouse said Helsby's mind had become "deranged through ill-health" as his son described to the inquest how his father had met with a cycling accident some thirty years earlier in which he'd received serious head injuries. Arthur Francis Helby, a fitter, said that as a result his Dad endured severe headaches and he'd only recently returned to the school after a period off work.

On his final day after a restless night, Arthur Helsby Snr. informed his wife Louisa that he "felt poorly and complained of his head being bad". During the day he sat about the house and watched his son repairing his motor vehicle. The family thought that he'd then gone to his room for a rest but at 6pm they received word that Arthur had been struck by a goods train travelling towards St.Helens Junction from Lea Green. Coroner Brighouse added that Helsby was not in a fit state of mind to appreciate that his actions were "wrong in the sight of God and against the law of the land".

The final word on 'Owd Tolly' has to come from Frank Bamber who concludes his chapter on his Sutton Nash schooldays by summing up his thoughts on his former teacher:

  He was to my way of thinking an extremely unhappy man, a man who never smiled or broke into happy laughter. He looked on the black side of life, never the bright side. He missed the good things of life, may he find it on the other side.  

(Extracts from 'Clog Clatters of Old Sutton' by Frank Bamber, courtesy of Sutton Historic Society.
St.Helens Reporter extract courtesy St.Helens Local History & Archives Library)

d) The Tragic Suicide of Annie Makin

The death of many young women as a result of childbirth and disease, created a dilemma for many nineteenth century fathers. Who would cook and keep house for them and look after their children? Remarriage was the solution for quite a number and some took another wife with almost indecent haste.

Hiring domestic servants was another option for widowers, although it was cheaper to get other female family members to do the work. When Rachel Makin died in 1881, her husband James hired Elizabeth Burrows to be his housekeeper. The family then lived in Hammond Street, Parr and Makin had six children to bring up. He was only a labourer and despite 'domestics' being poorly paid, he would have struggled to pay Elizabeth as well as provide for his three sons and three daughters.

It seems that after moving to 50 Sutton Street in Peasley Cross, which was then part of Sutton, Makin's eldest daughter Sarah was given the task of running his home. Upon her marriage, the responsibility fell upon Sarah's young sister Ann. By 1890, she was just 15-years-old and was clearly a deeply unhappy child with a lot on her young shoulders. Annie was expected to cook and keep house for her four siblings, as well as look after her demanding 45-year-old father, who had a violent temper. On several occasions during the previous year, Sutton bobby PC Littler had been called to Makin's home by worried neighbours who were concerned that he was "killing the children" (Liverpool Mercury 3/10/1890).

Early in September 1890, Annie accompanied her friend Mary McNamara when she visited Roughdales pottery works with her brother's dinner. When the pair passed the old water-filled pit at Sherdley Delph, Ann shocked Mary by suggesting that they drown themselves in it. Then on Sunday September 14th, Ann told friend Ellen Lynan, whilst they were in Sutton Churchyard, that if her father "beat her or sauced her again", she would kill herself.

Four days later, Ann was given a severe scolding by her father for letting two friends into the house and giving them currant cakes. So after taking her young brother and sister to school, she went to the Delph where she was seen standing by the water's edge. Witness Joseph Gerrard said she "seemed somewhat strange".

Her father took over two days to report his 15-year-old housekeeper daughter missing and was drunk when he went to the police. By then Ann's hat had been found floating in the waters of the Delph, which was some 30 to 40 feet deep. Ann had tightly pinned her dress to reduce the buoyancy effect and it took several more days before her body could be recovered.

At Ann's inquest held on October 2nd, 1890 at the Griffin Inn, coroner Sam Brighouse was highly critical of Makin's treatment of his daughter. The chemical labourer attempted to defend his behaviour, claiming that he hadn't beaten Ann for "three or four months since". In censuring Makin, the coroner commented that he had other children to bring up and hoped that he would "do better to them than he had to the deceased."

e) The Rabid Railway Shunter from Herbert Street

One of the most feared conditions of the nineteenth century was rabies. Otherwise known as hydrophobia, distressed rabid or 'mad' dogs often bit those that they came into contact with and passed on the deadly disease. However, rabid dogs didn't always foam at the mouth and boisterous canines were often mistaken for afflicted ones. So panic soon became as big a threat as the contagion itself.

On August 6th, 1824 the Liverpool Mercury ran a near-full page editorial with the less than snappy title: 'HYDROPHOBIA, REAL OR IMAGINARY, AND THE MEASURES ADOPTED IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE PREVAILING PANIC'. They wrote that:

  The dread of Hydrophobia was never, in our recollection, so prevalent and general as at this time. It appears to have spread simultaneously from one extremity of the kingdom to the other...there is, perhaps, no disease, respecting which so much ignorance prevails as that which is supposed to be communicated by the bite of a rabid animal...the minute details of the sufferings and deaths of persons afflicted with hydrophobia, are so truly terrific.  

Their article claimed that dogs infected with tetanus were being wrongly labelled rabid. The fear was so great that people bitten by a non-infected dog became so hysterical that they would induce the symptoms of rabies upon themselves. In actual fact the disease had a lengthy incubation period and bite wounds often healed before the symptoms were displayed.

Irish railwayman John Campbell of 118 Herbert Street developed rabies after being seconded to work in Preston. On June 23rd 1892, while in charge of a level crossing, the 41-years-old shunter saw a collie dog on the line. Concerned that the animal would be run over, he called it over to him. The St.Helens Reporter described what happened next:

  The dog came quietly, but on reaching him, suddenly sprang at his face and bit a piece of flesh, about one and a half inches long, from near the mouth.   

The wound was dressed by a Preston doctor and it appeared to heal. However, on August 20th, Campbell visited Dr. Edward Casey at his surgery in Junction Lane complaining of spasms. These had only begun that same morning while he was washing. An alarmed Casey diagnosed rabies and personally drove Campbell to the Royal Infirmary at Liverpool. His spasms intensified and he endured severe delusions before dying in torment. This was on the evening of the 23rd, just four days after first showing symptoms. Unusually for a rabies sufferer, the railway shunter had not displayed an aversion to water and during his hospital stay had accepted fluids.

At John Campbell's funeral on the following Sunday, thousands of Sutton folk lined the streets to pay their respects. Roughdale’s Brass Band led the procession to St.Annes church and over 200 railway employees participated.

Instead of a hearse, the coffin was carried by relays of railwaymen. Campbell left a widow Ellen and six young children and the St.Helens Reporter described how the funeral affected his family:

  ...the procession slowly filed down the church. The widow completely broke down and had to be assisted along the aisle, followed by the little crying children.  

John Campbell had arrived in Sutton about 1881 and the Reporter said he had been a "finely built fellow", having served in the army. In fact he'd relived his army life in his delusions just before he died. Campbell was considered a hero for saving the life of a dog. His kindly act had led to his own death and there was much sympathy for his family's plight. So in September a fund was opened to support the Campbells managed by St. Helens Junction stationmaster, James Lucas.

The rabies plague reached its peak in Lancashire during the 1890s. On November 12th 1892, the Chief Constable of St.Helens, James Wood, issued his annual report. He revealed that proceedings had been taken against 100 people for breaching the controversial Rabies (MuzzIng of Dogs) Order. Wood's police force had obtained convictions against 97 people and 138 dogs had been seized of which 74 were destroyed. This was not because they had rabies, it was simply that the dogs were on the streets unmuzzled. In fact the only known case of a rabid dog in the St.Helens district occurred in Rainhill in October 1895.

Dog lovers were enraged by the order being implemented in St.Helens, despite there having been 26 cases of rabies in Lancashire during 1893. At a St.Helens Town Council meeting on October 3rd 1894, Councillor Mearns said it was a "pitiable sight" to see big policemen "running about the streets chasing little animals about the size of kittens". The muzzling order ended within a few years, although it wasn’t until 1922 that rabies was eradicated from Britain.

As regards Ellen Campbell, she endured a second tragedy after marrying James Garner, who was also a railway shunter. They lived at 148 Mill Lane in Sutton and had three children, Joseph, Ellen and Claude. Garner worked for the L and NW railway for 27 years, until he was killed in a waggon accident at Ravenhead in May 1902. James and Ellen's daughter Ellen, incidentally, married James Emblem Johnson, who is featured in Sutton at War Part 2.

Thanks to Pauline Ball, grand-daughter of James Garner, for contributing additional research

f) The Romantic Suicide

The death of a spouse after many years of marriage can, of course, be very hard to bear. Today there is bereavement counselling and social services that can help. However, in old Sutton there was nothing.

When Margaret Birch of 76 Baxters Lane died in June 1891, her husband John was distraught. They'd been married for around forty years and the 62-years-old soon became depressed over his loss. It probably didn't help that he'd retired early from his job as a sawyer, and so had little to occupy his mind. He'd been employed in sawing timber for many years and perhaps an industrial accident had caused his retirement. In those days someone of John's age was considered quite old. However, with little pension provision, they would usually work for as long as physically able.

John Birch had two daughters and a son and he told them that he would die within two yards of their mother's grave. Margaret was buried in Sutton Churchyard, although it's not known whether his prediction was perceived as a suicide threat. However, on the morning of Tuesday April 25th 1893, all doubt was removed when Birch wrote the word 'Poison' on a bottle of liniment and went to the churchyard. The widower drank from the bottle and then lay down on his beloved wife's grave.

The sexton at St. Nicholas Church, Mr. Lester, found Birch sprawled unconscious and immediately summoned Dr. Baker Bates from his Junction Road surgery. Sutton's popular medic conveyed Birch to the Cottage Hospital, but within hours he was dead. The Manchester Times headlined their report 'Romantic Suicide at St. Helens', and described how the usual verdict of "suicide while of unsound mind" had been returned at Birch's inquest.

St.Nicholas Church with part of the old graveyard - Contributed by Sutton Historic Society

The death of John Birch posed a dilemma for the church as suicide was illegal and those who took their lives were interred in unconsecrated ground. However the Birch's three children would certainly have wished that their parents were buried together.

John Birch's burial took place the day after his inquest and it is listed in the Sutton parish records (no. 556). However, just what happened to his remains is not known or, indeed, that of his wife's. Grave location numbers were not allotted until 1906, but a careful search of the old graveyard has revealed no trace of Margaret's grave. Could the children have had their mother's remains removed from its grave and interred with their father in unconsecrated ground, so they could lay together? Perhaps there was a romantic ending to the romantic suicide?

g) The Drunken Steeplejack

The risky work of steeplejacks was brought home to television viewers by Fred Dibnah in his BBC series of the '70s and '80s. I’m unaware of Fred undertaking any work in Sutton, but he certainly came here when appearing at the St.Helens Show in Sherdley Park. His trademark steamroller is pictured in Mill Lane in 1996, taken by Jim Lamb.

During Fred’s time, there weren’t that many chimneys and steeples in the district that needed repair or demolition. In old Sutton there were far more and working on them would sometimes lead to tragedy. Herbert Eden tells me that around 1930, the old steeple at St.Annes church had seen off a steeplejack and a stone in the graveyard commemorated the death.

Although an eccentric, Fred Dibnah was a careful climber and not a risk-taker, aware that he'd only fall off a chimney once! He certainly liked his pint but didn’t do any climbing after having a skin full. This was in stark contrast to Ralph Woods who in 1892, fell 183 feet to his death from a chimney at Sutton Copper Works. The 27-years-old had only been working for S.P. Bidder's chimney builders and repairers of Manchester for nine months. However, he'd already developed a reputation for recklessness and liking his beer too much.

At Wood’s inquest at the Manor Arms in Sutton Road, his co-worker John Mains described their boozing on the day of the accident. He said they'd left Warrington on the 10 o’clock train on August 8th 1892, but had got off at Earlestown, where they went to the Railway Hotel. Mains said they stayed there until 2pm, but claimed they’d only drunk two pints each. This seems rather unlikely over a period of 3½ hours. He also said they drank a pint while walking to Sutton and another during a break from the chimney work.

Mains’s testimony to the inquest, chaired by Coroner Samuel Brighouse, seemed rather dubious at times. He claimed that when Ralph Woods fell from the chimney, he uttered the words "Oh dear". I think one might have expected a more raw expletive from the young man while plunging 183 feet to his death!

He did describe how they took an enforced break from the chimney because of smoke. The copper works wasn’t prepared to shut down production and lose money, so the two steeplejacks were "almost blinded and choked" by the smoke. Their remedy for this was, of course, to go to the pub! Although Mains claimed that they only drank four pints that day, this seems unlikely and Coroner Brighouse said that anyhow that was 3½ pints too much.

The duo’s approach to health and safety was minimal and there was no scaffolding. Instead the two steeplejacks stood on boards at the top of chimney, which had a diameter of 11 feet. It had only been built in 1882 to a height of 183 feet but had suffered during recent storms, shedding a number of bricks and stones. Woods and Mains used small crowbars to 'prize off' the brickwork. They worked on opposite sides of the chimney and the brickwork and coping gave them a standing width of just two feet. They threw broken bricks and stones down to the ground and a crowd of hundreds gathered to watch them.

About 7.30pm, Woods pushed over some stones and bricks and was seen to stagger. The horrified onlookers then saw him fall headlong to the ground, his skull striking the edge of a brick, crushing it into the earth. Dr. Bates was called to the scene and found that every bone in Wood's body had been smashed to pieces. Word soon got round Sutton, and the crowd of people multiplied into thousands.

The deceased’s boss accepted no responsibility for the accident and was instead critical of his own employee. S. P. Bidder said Woods was a "reckless and careless man", and added that he would unnecessarily walk round the chimney top, exposing himself to danger. The coroner felt that drink was the real culprit, saying:

  They don’t fence round the chimney, and they don’t fence the public house.  

This wasn’t the first fatal fall at Sutton Copper Works. Less than a year earlier, 12-years-old William Dean had fallen from a scaffold within the plant after being told to retrieve a mallet.

By the time that the steeplejack fell to his death, Sutton Copper Works, owned by Newton, Keates and Co. and located near Worsley Brow, was gradually laying off staff. It smelted its last ore in December 1895 after over 60 years of production.

h) Crossing The Line – Rail Deaths in Old Sutton

My grandfather, Edward Wainwright, was killed by a train at Rainford in 1962. The exact circumstances will never be known as he was said to be depressed as well as deaf, offering two possible reasons for the tragedy. One would have thought that it would be quite difficult to not see a big, noisy steam loco coming at you. However, the more I’ve researched Sutton, the more examples I’ve found of people who’ve been accidentally mowed down by trains.

Much of the old railway network in Rainford is now a pleasant linear park. However in old Sutton, railway lines made for handy linear paths that created shortcuts. With no cars and buses, most people walked to and from work. Using the railway lines could save a few minutes, although it cost a number their lives. Tough miners, who faced death daily down the pit, were prime offenders who thought nothing of walking and crossing the lines.

In 1895, George Clarke, an 18-years-old collier from Pye Street, was killed by an express passenger train while taking a “near cut” to Bold Colliery. Clarke’s inquest was held, rather appropriately, at the Railway Hotel at St. Helens Junction on July 2nd. His mate James Butler told the inquiry that they’d climbed over the railway fence so they could walk to work along the line. Engine driver George Shaw stated that he blew his whistle for a quarter of a mile and a juror who heard it remarked that the whistle was loud and prolonged. However, Butler claimed that they didn’t hear a thing. Coroner Brighouse said: “I don’t like to say anything harsh, but if people will do these things they must run the risk.”

Steam locomotive at Sutton Oak - you don't want to cross swords with one of these!

Sometimes, like my grandfather, it was a question of crossing the lines as opposed to walking along them. Even though a footbridge had been provided for Bold miners to safely cross the railway track, some preferred to walk directly across. This cost 16-years-old Walter Houghton his life on July 11th 1899 after leaving the colliery to walk home to Parr. He was run down by an express passenger train from Liverpool and was said to have received shocking injuries.

This was despite a safety campaign in which detectives had brought actions against colliers who they'd seen on the lines. On August 20th 1894, twelve miners - Patrick Gaffney, Patrick Powell, Harry Taylor, William Routledge, Harry Travis, James Hayes, Thomas Highcock, John Tynan, William Houghton, John Murphy, Anthony Smith, and James Owen – were each fined 5 shillings for trespassing on the lines of the London and North Western Railway Company. They were spotted at Lea Green and at St. Helens Junction and it was remarked in court that despite a number of deaths, people were still risking their lives.

Sometimes Suttoners walked the lines because of the state of the roads and paths. When Ann Halliday, Anthony Marshall and Richard Evans of Sutton Moss appeared in court in December 1894, they claimed that they were walking on the railway because the road was very dirty.

The railway track could also be used by thieves to make their getaway. On July 6th 1856, James Wilson used the line at Sutton Moss to return home after stealing 14 cabbages. He was earning good money as a blacksmith but decided to help himself to produce from the garden of John Slater in the dead of night. He was struck down by the mail train at 2:30am and discovered by John Ferguson about an hour later.

Today, one would contact the emergency services and not be expected to touch the body. However, it was quite different in Ferguson’s time with no telephone, hospital or ambulance service and with only a small, limited police force. So when accidents happened, people often took the dead to the nearest pub, as that was where their inquest would be held. Ferguson picked up Wilson’s lifeless body and took it to the Wheatsheaf, which was then in Lionel Street. His inquest was held there the next day and the condition of his remains was described as a “sickening spectacle”. James Wilson left a wife and five children.

On November 5th 1896, the Gamble Institute was officially opened in St.Helens and the 2nd Volunteer Battalion of the South Lancashire Regiment paraded as part of the ceremony. Patrick Ryan of 17, Sutton Moss was a member of the battalion and when the event ended, he enjoyed a few drinks in a town centre pub and then walked home. While walking on the railway line near to Sutton Oak station, the Irishman was struck by an engine that was proceeding to the nearby sheds. The 43-years-old furnaceman at Sutton Copper Works was instantly killed. Both of his legs were smashed and his body was badly mutilated. Patrick Ryan left a wife Mary and three young children.

People who lived near railway stations were also prone to walking the lines to save them time before taking a train or after departing one. On October 7th 1871, Samuel Lucas was walking home from Sutton Oak station when he was run over and killed by a train. One of his feet was cut off and his face was said to have been completely smashed.

The deadly lines at Sutton Oak station - it was easier to walk across the track than use the footbridge

There were also many deaths at Sutton’s railway stations when passengers were struck down when crossing the line. This usually happened when people were rushing to get to the opposite platform. On November 27th 1865, Eliza Jones of Worsley Brow was killed by a coal train at Peasley Cross station. The bricklayer's wife arrived just as the train to St.Helens was pulling in and so she crossed the line with her friend. The coal train engineer blew his whistle and people shouted to Eliza. However, the mother of seven froze to the spot and she stared at the train until its buffer violently knocked her down.

Then on the morning of November 16th 1881, Father Sebastian of Sutton Monastery was cut to pieces - literally - after stepping in front of the ten o'clock Liverpool to Manchester express. The Italian was only two yards from the footbridge to the other platform. However, concerned he’d miss his train, he chose instead to dash across the rails to his death.

One of the saddest tragedies took place at Sutton Oak station on November 23rd 1889. It was a foggy night and Mrs. Canning, a 23-years-old glassmaker’s wife, carried her young child over the “metals”. She failed to see a goods train approaching and the child was instantly killed and the mother died in the Cottage Hospital in Peasley Cross five days later.

People who trespass on the railway these days are more likely to be committing vandalism, stealing copper cable or taking their own lives, rather than using the lines as a short-cut. With much better roads and transportation, Sutton folk have no need to walk or cross the lines anymore. However risks are still taken by many, whether they're indulging in extreme sports, driving fast cars or motorbikes, jumping off bridges or even risking their health through smoking and drinking or having an unhealthy diet. Although times change, the nature of people doesn't really change all that much!

i) Maternal Murder and Suicide in Sutton

In the article ‘Tragedy of a Pond’ in Sutton Tragedy Part 1, Rachel Machin suffering from post-natal depression chose to end her life but not that of her child. However, this was not always the case. With depression rarely treated by medical practitioners, mentally-ill mothers sometimes took the lives of their children as well as their own.

On April 23rd 1885, 40-years-old Jane Hamilton threw herself and her four-years-old son Thomas off a Sutton bridge into the waters below. A rag gatherer called Hagan waded into the water, which was only four feet deep. However, he decided to turn back and some time elapsed before two other men jumped in and retrieved their dead bodies. Jane was the wife of James Hamilton, who was a labourer at Sutton Glass Works and the former gardener of glass boss William Blinkhorn. They lived at Highfield Terrace in Sutton and she was reported to have been depressed. At the inquest held at the Running Horses in St. Helens, her husband disputed this and an open verdict was returned. Perhaps James felt it would be shameful to admit any mental illness in the family.

Shame was the reason that Louisa Hunt gave for killing herself and her six-months-old child Elizabeth. This occurred in July 1896 after she’d been accused of stealing a pair of boots. Clearly disturbed, Louisa drowned her baby and herself in the Ravenhead Glassworks’ reservoir. In her suicide note she denied the theft and said she’d be better off dead than endure disgrace.

Fourteen years earlier, on March 28th, 1882, 27-years-old Mary Rawlinson of Mill Brow sang with her husband as he got dressed. Alfred Rawlinson was the manager of the Lancashire Chemical Company’s Manure Works at Sutton and his wife was the daughter of a Barnsley boiler maker. They’d only moved from Barnsley some months earlier, where Rawlinson had an administrative post at a local colliery. Mary had been depressed as her father and brother were seriously ill, but she now seemed in better spirits. Certainly when Alfred returned from work at ten minutes past six that evening, he could never have imagined the scene of horror awaiting him.

Illustrator Marty Strutt visualises the scene inside Rawlinson's bedroom after breaking the door chain

Servant Eliza Walton informed him that his wife had been in their bedroom since noon. She had not responded to her knocks and the chain had been put on the door. Rawlinson received no response when he called his wife and so he forced open the bedroom door. He found his wife lying on the floor in a pool of blood. By her side was an open razor and a basin filled with blood. Mary had knelt down, held her head over the basin and cut her throat so deeply that Dr. Twyford, who’d been summoned to the grisly scene, declared that death would have been almost immediate.

However, worse was in store for Rawlinson. On looking into a cradle by the side of the bed, he discovered that his son was also dead, killed by his mother. The boy had been named Alfred after his father but was known to the couple by his middle name of Arnold. Touching his son he found him quite cold and a post-mortem revealed that he'd been suffocated around lunchtime. However Mary had only killed herself minutes before her husband’s return.

When Police Sergeant Richard Banks searched the room he found a suicide note. Mary had hidden it behind a picture and addressed it to her husband. She wrote:

  If I did not take this step I should only live to be a trouble to you. I shall take Arnold with me. It will be better for us to go together. Do not think badly of me. My anguish is greater than I can bear. 

The inquest jury returned a verdict that Mary had caused her own death by cutting her throat, having been in a state of “temporary mental insanity”. They also found that Arnold Rawlinson had died from “suffocation at the hands of his mother.”

At the inquest it was revealed that Mary Rawlinson had never been treated for “mental disease”. Perhaps if there had been treatment and a better understanding of mental illness, this terrible tragedy would never have happened.

j) Child Tragedies in Old Sutton

It wasn't easy being a youngster in old Sutton. Child mortality rates were high with low resistance to infections and diseases like typhoid and scarlet fever. Then there were numerous hazards for toddlers to overcome, such as open fires and dolly tubs in the house and ponds, deep brooks and reservoirs outside.

Coal fires were ruthless killers with flickering flames and crackling sounds a great attraction to kids. With no central heating, children would sit very close to fires during the winter months in order to get warm. There were countless fatalities as youngsters died a horrible death as their flammable clothing was set alight by sparks, cinders or firewood. Their bereaved parents then had to live with their guilt for leaving their kids alone, albeit often for quite brief periods of time.

On January 18th 1891, the mother of two-years-old Thomas Evans of 4 Powder Works Yard in Sutton was called to a neighbour's house. She was only away for a few minutes but it was long enough for the toddler's nightdress to ignite. The boy was sitting on a stool by the fire when a cinder fell from the grate. A lad named Grice ran into the house and badly burnt his hand trying to extinguish the flames. Young Thomas received severe burns to his body and died three hours later. At his inquest, the lad Grice was complimented for his bravery in attempting to save the boy and a juror gave him a reward.

Children still die today through their clothes being set alight. However risks are reduced as modern-day kids' clothing is of low flammability and there are few open fires within homes. In the past children's clothes were highly flammable and panicking youngsters would cry for help rather than attempt to extinguish the flames themselves.

Death often came very quickly as with five-years-old Archibald McKinnon of Ditch Hillock in Sutton. On December 12th 1865, the boy went downstairs and sat next to the fire trying to get warm. A piece of firewood fell from the grate and ignited his shirt. The son of glassmaker Duncan McKinnon received severe burns and was soon dead.

Even the police endured such domestic tragedies. PC Henry Fillingham’s daughter Lilly burned to death on November 27th, 1891 after her clothes were set alight when she put some coal upon the fire. Both her parents were upstairs at the time in their Helsby Street home. After hearing their child's screams, the pair rushed down the stairs so quickly that they fell and injured themselves. Both Henry and his wife Ann needed medical treatment as a result, but it would have been the least of their worries. PC Fillingham was a member of St.John's Ambulance but his first aid skills couldn't save his daughter. On the following day, three-years-old Samuel Kirkham of 9 Burtonhead Road died after he was left alone for a few minutes. The son of a bricklayer was warming his hands on the fire and received severe burns to his body and to his legs. Dr. Casey attended young Samuel but couldn't save him.

A distressing spectacle took place in Marshalls Cross on November 29th 1897 when Elizabeth Smart caught fire. The four-years-old had briefly been left home alone at 7 Chester Lane when somehow her clothes got ablaze. The little girl was the daughter of chemical labourer Joseph Smart and she ran into the street to get help. Although her flames were quickly extinguished, Elizabeth had been severely charred and burned and she died two hours later.

Three-years-old Emma Forrest of 22, Clock Face Road was badly burned about the face and arms on November 10th, 1899 after lighting a piece of paper at the fire, which set her clothes alight. Dr. Baker Bates attended but couldn’t save her life. Paraffin lamps were also a fire risk for inquisitive children. Fourteen-months-old Henry Daniels of 26 Taylor Street in Sutton pulled a lamp off a table while visiting his grandmother's house on September 2nd, 1892. Badly burned, the toddler died at Providence Hospital in St.Helens five days later.

Illustrator Marty Strutt depicts a child who has been left alone in front of a kitchen range

In Victorian times the kitchen fireplace was usually the centrepiece of a range that provided cooking facilities and hot water as well as heat. A cast iron kettle was either hung over the fire on a hook and chain or placed on iron plates. These days kettles are less accessible to playful children but not so in the past. In March 1862, four years-old Jane Talbot was scalded to death by a kettle of boiling water. Her inquest was held at the Navigation Tavern where it was stated that the child was playing when she fell against the kettle.

Just over a year later on June 19th 1863, an inquest was held at the Hawk and Buck on Joseph Freeman. The little boy had been playing inside his Peasley Cross Lane home when he fell against a can of hot water. The scalding he received brought on convulsions from which Joseph died. Then on New Year's Day 1892, four-years-old Charles Lingham of 176 Robins Lane received a severe scalding to his body. His mother Rose had placed a pan of boiling water on the floor and the playful child fell into it. Despite the efforts of Dr. Baker Bates, the young boy died two days later.

Accidental drownings of young children were more common in Victorian times than today and they could even occur at the home. Three-years-old Michael Ratagan of 6, Moss Nook, Sutton died on September 2nd 1892 after playing in his yard. He drowned in a dolly-tub and was found face down in ten inches of water after falling in. Three-years-old Evan Thomas was drowned in a pit of water near to his parents’ cottage at Moss Nook on May 16th, 1879 while out playing. Then in July 1895, two-years-old painter's daughter Mary Fisher drowned in a three-feet-deep brook that was just 200 yards from her home at Leach Farm. It was said at Mary's inquest, that she'd wandered from home and fallen into the brook.

The saddest case that I’ve come across occurred in August 1855 when a girl called Ellen Stringfellow found the putrefied remains of a child. It was thought that the unknown child had been with tramps who had simply deserted him or her after death. The body had lain in a Marshalls Cross lane for two to three weeks before young Ellen made her grisly discovery. Deaths of children were so common that just seven lines were devoted to the story by the Liverpool Mercury.

Appendix: When The Dead Went To The Pub! – Coroners Inquests in Old Sutton

Picture this strange old Sutton scene. Crowded inside a dingy room within the Locomotive Inn is Coroner Sam Brighouse, at least 12 male jurors, some witnesses and an uncovered dead body on a table! It does seem bizarre today for inquests to have been conducted in pubs, along with the deceased. However, it was the norm throughout the nineteenth century and this scene was regularly repeated.

The Locomotive was located on the corner of Ellamsbridge Road and Peckers Hill Road and was just one of a number of Sutton pubs where the circumstances and causes of tragedies was investigated. Historically referred to as inquisitions, inquests were also held in the Red Lion, the Griffin Inn, Golden Cross and the Navigation Tavern, amongst others. The latter tended to specialise in the demise of those unfortunate enough to have fallen or jumped into the adjacent canal. Pubs were chosen as venues because there were few alternative meeting places capable of accommodating so many people.

The Locomotive Inn in Sutton where inquests were often held - courtesy Sutton Historic Society

For many years it was a legal requirement for the deceased to be present at inquests. Within the law this was known as 'super visum corporis', meaning upon view of the body. If burial had already taken place, it had to be dug up for displaying to the jurors! Some would act as amateur pathologists and inspect the deceased for injuries and then question witnesses to ascertain their cause. It was not a job for the fainthearted, especially when multiple fatalities in a pit accident or children were involved.

The inquest on seven-year-old Lily and three-year-old Agnes Walton who, as described above, perished within the Rolling Mill reservoir, was held in the Locomotive. What a harrowing experience it must have been as a juror, legally required to view their bodies. They usually received just a shilling (5p) for their trouble. However, it was considered an honour to be a juryman, of which a minimum of 12 and a maximum of 23 members were required. Due to the small pool of suitable male candidates, there were many regulars and some developed an expertise in prodding the dead and asking questions of the living.

Do bear in mind that in old Sutton, people had more exposure to the dead than today. Even children were taken to view laid out bodies in the parlours of houses to pay their respects. Everyone in the street would draw their curtains during the mourning period, as many older readers of this article will recall.

Coroner’s juries did have some clout and could make written recommendations, known as ‘presentments’. They made one on May 21st, 1861 when they called for an overbridge to be built in Sutton’s ‘Pudding Bag’ to “protect the public from accident”. This was at the inquest on the death of William Crooks, which was held in the Golden Cross. The 67-year-old gateman, who manned a level crossing, had died near the pub just the day before when struck by a train.

Although many jurors undertook their task with relish, there were some individuals who refused to participate. On August 29th 1855, William Davies from Sutton was fined ten shillings by a coroner for refusing to be on a jury investigating a Ditch Hillock man's death. Then on January 19th 1891, Alfred Hardy, the landlord of the Boilermaker's Arms, was fined £2 for declining an invitation to attend.

Although some jurors were quite knowledgeable, they were not as expert as Samuel Brighouse (1849 – 1940). For 55 years from 1884, he served as Coroner for SW Lancashire and during that time he conducted an amazing 25,000 inquests, including almost all those held in Sutton. Having investigated countless inquiries into pit tragedies, he developed an advanced understanding of mining practice and was able to explain it in simple terms to the jurors.

In 1889 Brighouse conducted the inquest on James Maybrick, the recently named Jack the Ripper suspect, and two years later, the victims of the sensational Deeming murders in Rainhill.

The smell from corpses at inquests must, at times, have been dreadful and so they were usually held within 24 to 48 hours of death to minimise the decomposition and odour caused by putrefaction. In 1894 Coroner Brighouse bitterly complained about the compulsory and distasteful viewing of dead bodies at the beginning of inquests. This was in the case of a collier killed in the sawpit of Lea Green Colliery. When the coroner arrived he was informed by Sergeant Small that the jury couldn't view the body as "owing to the frightful stench, it had been screwed down in the coffin".

The Birmingham Daily Post of July 30th, 1894 described how Coroner Brighouse had reluctantly ordered that it be unscrewed and commented how viewing of the deceased should only have to be made when absolutely necessary:

   The coroner said that the coffin must be unscrewed, and that the jury must obey the law and view the body…He did not want to compel them to do anything that was obnoxious to them; but he would be doing wrong if he broke the law. A juror said the law ought to be altered. This must have been a very objectionable viewing – even worse than viewing some bodies that have died from infectious diseases – and it could be of no use. It is only by constantly calling attention to this disagreeable part of a juror’s work that we can hope to get it removed.   

Occasionally Brighouse carried out treasure trove inquiries into finds that had been made. On November 20th, 1913, two boys called Thomas were playing on waste ground in Sutton when they discovered a calico bag filled with sovereigns. They took the bag to their father who counted out £151, the equivalent of about £6,500 in today's money. Instead of taking it to the police, he asked a friend to look after the money "to see if it was inquired for". However, word got out and Detective Inspector Roe came calling. At the inquiry, the Widnes works of the United Alkali Company and the St.Helens Co-op tried to claim the money, believing the sovereigns were the proceeds of robberies that they'd both had. However, they couldn't substantiate their claims and the Coroner ruled that the find was treasure trove and the cash was handed to the Duchy of Lancaster.

On June 27th, 1934, Samuel Brighouse, who was born in Lathom and educated at Ormskirk Grammar School, had a Knighthood conferred by King George V. On October 4th, he was in a party of dignitaries that welcomed Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald back home after three months in Canada. During the 1930s, he called for better mortuaries, as some were pitifully basic, as well as improvements in road safety. With the increasing popularity of motor cars, Brighouse found himself conducting many inquests into road deaths. In August 1935 he claimed that he could halve the number of road accidents if his suggestions were enacted. These included "special places where pedestrians could cross with safety...when they were crossing I would have the road blocked against motor traffic". Pedestrian crossings, in other words.

Sir Samuel Brighouse was still coroner when he died in bed on January 15th, 1940 at the age of 90. He had his diary and notebook open in front of him and his fountain pen in his hand. References to Coroner R. W. Brighouse (c.1876 - 1941) in St.Helens local newspaper reports of the 1930s, refer to Sir Samuel's son, Robert Wales. His career as a deputy coroner was overshadowed by his illustrious father and RW's obituary in the St.Helens Newspaper in June 1941 focused on his Dad's achievements, rather than his own. As well as conducting inquests, the pair ran a family legal practice which began in the 1870s in Ormskirk and Brighouses Solicitors of Southport still exists.

The days have long gone since inquests were conducted in pubs. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, an increasing number were held in St.Helens Town Hall, a location far more suited to the solemnity of the occasion than a public house. There was a mortuary at the Town Hall and jurors could leave the jury room to inspect the deceased and then return. Dedicated courts are now employed for this purpose and since 1927, coroner’s juries are sparingly used. Advances in science and medicine have also obviated the necessity of having dead bodies lounging around on tables in inquests. It’s not thought that drinking took place when hearings were conducted in pubs, although a few stiff drinks were probably supped afterwards. Let's hope the jurors didn’t get dead drunk!

Next:  Part 32)  Sutton at War Part 1   |   Research Sources & Bibliography

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