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CARVED IN STONE

A MEMORIAL TRAIL THROUGH GLOSSOPDALE.

GLOSSOPDALE MEMORIALS COMMEMORATING THOSE WHO FELL

DURING THE GREAT WAR, 1914-1918

Compiled by WRITE FROM THE HEART

Glossop Community Writers 2014-2016

Google Maps - https://www.google.co.uk

Grid Finder - https://www.gridreferencefinder.com

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From the dark places in the world

Comes the nightmare of war.

A madman who thinks he knows best,

A madman who wants to conquer all.

Men called to arms, help, protect;

Leaving wives and families behind.

Off in righteous indignation

In strange lands far away.

Once lush meadows,

Now muddy trenches.

Men on bended knee;

Praying for an end,

Not caring how it comes.

Conflict causing losses,

Making widows and orphans,

All to stop a madman.

Years of bloodshed,

Home and away.

Finally the battles won

Poppies commemorate the lost.

Always remember, never forget

Sacrifices to protect the innocent.

Jenni Cleverley

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Introduction and Acknowledgments This trail could not have been compiled without help from several organisations in

Glossop and district. Churches and other establishments opened their doors so we could

take photographs, we were supported and encouraged by local branches of the British

Legion and the U3A, and the Glossopdale Heritage Trust provided us with invaluable

information that formed the basis for this project. Above all we are grateful to the

Heritage Lottery Fund for financial support. The project they financed was entitled

“Carved in Stone”, though many of our memorials are recorded on other media: wood,

bronze, iron, glass, paper, etc. Glossop Rotary Club also made a generous contribution to

the work, helping us to defray production and printing costs.

A wide range of sites are officially classed as “war memorials”. For instance, the wartime

aeroplane crashes on the moors east and south of Glossopdale are war memorials, but

they date almost exclusively from the 1939-45 conflict and our grant was to construct a

First World War Memorial Trail, so we have not included them. The public library has a

Second World War roll of honour in a glass case close to the entrance. Also, many of

Glossopdale’s mills would have exhibited rolls of honour commemorating employees

who fell during the conflict, but almost all these mills have gone and their memorial

plaques, and their archives, are no more. One recently-demolished mill, Hawkshead in

Old Glossop, did indeed have a roll of honour, but our cameras could not outpace the

property developers. The local branch of the Cooperative Society in the town centre still

retains its roll of honour, transferred from its former building in Norfolk Square, and a

picture of this roll is included in the following pages.

Despite our best endeavours, there could be extant memorials that we have overlooked. If

so, we would be glad to learn about them so we can make this trail as comprehensive as

possible. We have no wish to omit anything carved in stone or wood, or cast in metal or

any other medium, that honours the individuals of Glossop and district who died fighting

in the First World War. Any reader who can provide information we have missed, or

wishes to comment in any other way, can contact us via the Write from the Heart website,

http://www.writefromtheheart.uk.com/.

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The Trail circulates clockwise through what remains of the medieval parish of

Glossopdale, beginning at Chisworth, passing northwards to Hadfield and Padfield,

eastwards to Old Glossop, and then back south-westwards to the town centre and

Whitfield. The direction is obviously arbitrary, and interested visitors (or local residents)

are at liberty to follow whole or part in any order they choose. It is in a sense two

trails, one comprising the locations of extant rolls of honour and plaques (indicated by

the numbers 1, 2, 3 etc. around the clockwise circuit), the other comprising the

locations of former memorials that have now been removed (indicated by the letters A, B,

C etc. in the same direction). The latter are included because they tell us something of

how the town has changed during recent decades, and how widely the local residents who

fell during the First World War were formerly commemorated.

We hope this trail will help its readers to recognise the number and range of memorials,

extant or not, through which the dead of this parish have been honoured. By following

even a part of the Trail, readers will be reminded of the many that deserve never to be

forgotten; and perhaps, when they travel to other parts of the country, they will enjoy a

similar abundance and variety of symbols of remembrance that await them there.

Interspersed throughout this online trail document are a few of the creative writing

pieces members were inspired to produce during the `carved in stone` journey.

Grand old General Haig He had ten thousand men.

He marched them into trenches French And they never came home again.

For when they were shot, they were shot, And when they were dead, they were dead.

But if they were lucky, one in ten, They were neither shot nor dead.

Jane Hughes

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Musings of a Memorial

Ninety-four years old now, I am, and resigned to it. The names of local men who

died in the wars are printed on my memory for all to see. Well, some of the men

who died in the wars. I wouldn’t have the capacity to remember all of them even if

their families could afford to have them printed. But the ones I carry serve as a kind

of synecdoche: the few represent the many. At least, that’s the way I see it. Not that

anyone asks me. They’d get funny looks if they were seen asking me anything.

Once a year I become the centre of – I almost said “centre of attention”, but of

course I’m not the centre of attention. Centre of activity, perhaps. Focus of activity.

Gathering place for a crowd – hundreds, maybe a thousand or so. There are prayers,

a brass band, uniforms, flags, and wreath after wreath of poppies. The people are

here for a good half hour. Then the crowd departs, the clergy go for refreshments,

the brass band puts away its instruments, the flags are furled, and all that remains are

the poppies, artificial poppies; and me. The poppies might be around for a few

weeks, even months. I’m here all year, rain or shine, summer and winter, carrying

the few names representing the many, a stone memory to compensate for the

unreliability and mortality of human recollection.

And except for that one day a year, people don’t notice me. They know I’m there;

they see me every day; but I’m seen and not seen. I carry no meaning except on that

one day per year. The rest of the time it’s pigeons, and children and dogs chasing

pigeons, and skateboards, and perhaps – now and again – a lone figure sitting on my

pediment in the gathering darkness, smoking, lost in contemplation, wearing or not

wearing a white poppy as a symbol of futility.

I don’t think my hundredth birthday will be a cause for celebration, because nothing

will change.

Mark Henderson

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Extant Plaques and Rolls of Honour

1. Chisworth Wesleyan Chapel

OS grid reference SJ998779218

Unlike many former Methodist churches in the area, Chisworth Chapel remains

active. It was opened in 1834-35 but fell into disrepair within half a century and was

rebuilt in 1890. The First World War roll of honour is on the outside wall of the

building beside the main door.

Pals

Pals we were and pals we stayed, A “Pals” battalion on parade.

Through school and work we knew each other And thought war “just a bit of bother”.

But we soon learned. Our youth a hymn short sung, we died.

Pals to the end, men side by side. Our spirit and courage didn't fail

At Ypres, The Somme and Passchendaele. Our names are writ here in stone and brass.

Give us a thought each time you pass. Pause briefly just to say “How Do?”

Your prayer for us – we'll pray for you.

John Parker

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2. St John the Evangelist Church, Charlesworth

OS grid reference SK0042692893

A brass plaque on the south wall of the

nave names Lance Corporal Curtis Cuthbert

Garside, who “was accidentally drowned in

the River Tigris on June 12th, 1917, while

serving his country there, and was buried in

the cemetery of Sindiyeh, Mesopotamia”.

This young man had survived fierce

battles in the Middle East that had claimed

innumerable lives, only to be drowned by

accident while swimming.

The west window commemorates men of the

parish who fell during the 1914-18 War; the

stained glass was cleaned on the centenary of the

outbreak of hostilities.

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3. Charlesworth War Memorial

National Grid Reference: SK0057092910

This plain sandstone column stands in the centre of the road junction in the middle of

Charlesworth village.

Cold and wet afternoon; Dad's job was to get me a pair of winter boots. Somewhere

along Market Street, he stopped, lit a cigarette, and gave it to an old man who was

playing a mouth organ. Also he put some coins in an old hat on the floor. The man

thanked my Dad and me. As we walked along, my Dad began to explain his actions

but managed only to say it was wrong; those old soldiers were the forgotten heroes.

LYNN: ''There's that smelly old man.'' She pointed through the railings.

BRENDA: "That's my Granddad - his leg was shot off in the war, he can’t help

wetting himself. In tears she yelled at Lynn.

I was about six then. Still I do not understand why I recall this incident, along with

the few who witnessed it. We all cried! I recall watching through the railings as

Granddad hobbled and limped across the road to the Cenotaph, where he joined his

"PALS" all sitting in the summer sun.

Angela Griffiths

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4. Charlesworth Independent Chapel (“Top Chapel”)


Located at a higher altitude than any

of our other memorials, aeroplane

crash sites excepted, “Top Chapel”

commands a splendid view over the

valley. However, there is a sense in

which this memorial is typical of

many in the area and indeed elsewhere

in the country: there are thirteen

names of men who fell during the First

World War, and the name of just one

man who fell during the Second.

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When I heard the knock at the door, I asked myself: who can it be? Post at this time!

He was so humble. “Please sign.” He spoke so quietly. Looking at the brown

envelope, this was not for me! A nightmare, a dream… no, no, this was real.

Trembling, I managed to write my name on the page. I found it so hard to make any

sound of acknowledgement as he quickly disappeared down the empty street.

My blood stopped flowing, seeing nothing else but a brown envelope containing a

telegram now in my hand. “Clunk.” That hard metal door latch sounded behind me.

The house stopped breathing, silent and dark, broken only by rays of sunshine

powerful and bright trying to travel along the hall from the open back door. I

resented that bright intrusion, everything centered on a dull brown envelope whose

icy contents would hurt so much.

Each word strangled my heart, an invisible endless string inside, twisting tighter,

wounds never to heal. Then the tears, each burning, hurting so much. Blankly, I

stared at the wall. My mind raced for... what? Walls give no replies, knowing in my

heart such questions have no answers: a rumble like thunder, I shook, shaking wave

after wave, I couldn’t stop, the wall my only support, could I move?

That feeling will live with me forever. Trying again, asking... blank, black, nothing

came back, how could I swallow this unwanted dish? A taste staying forever, head

spinning, eyes aching, those written words unchanging.

I took deep breaths, then suddenly strength, yes strength - that was an old

experience, the only one I knew able to help. Faith too, after our mother’s and

father's deaths, that left the six of us. Yes, we did it! Bryan my precious brother and

I, so much love from family and friends supported us, against what seemed

impossible odds. Then this vile war, my brother so proud, not wanting to be handed

the white feather. We all pleaded with him not to go to war, our small family

depended on his wage. So just five of us now, all very special.

We will work willingly, unconditionally for each other. We must survive.

Angela Griffiths

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5. Zion Methodist Church


Zion, at the bottom of Simmondley

Lane where it joins the A57 west

of Glossop town centre, was built

in 1860.

The roll of honour is inside the church, on

the left hand wall as you enter from the

lobby.

For Albert

Albert had a wife at home He didn't want to go

To battlefields upon the Somme In trenches wet with snow.

He did his bit while comrades fell. With luck he ducked and ran.

When armistice was signed, Albert Came home a broken man. He never did get over it.

Though loved by darling Beth, He sat upon a bar stool

And drank himself to death.

Jane Hughes

At the time of WW1, both sides of my family lived in the north east. My grandfather had a pub in Darlington. He left his wife to run it with three young children and joined up. He won the military medal. This is his tale:

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6. Holy Trinity Church, Dinting


Holy Trinity stands on the A57 in

Dinting Vale, about three minutes walk

from Zion.

The roll of honour, including names not to be found on other memorials in

Glossopdale, is in the north aisle opposite the entrance door.

Further along the aisle there is a brass plaque in

honour of Gunner Platt, who was killed in

action in January 1917.

The east window, installed in 1922 in honour

of those who fell during the First World War,

contains two pairs of lights depicting the four

patron saints of the component nations of the

UK, each with a motto.

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Remembrance Day 1942

I went to Brownies this morning. In summer we go after tea on Wednesdays but now it gets

dark at teatime, we can't go out in the blackout in case there's an air raid. So in winter we

have Brownies on Saturday mornings. We were practising for the Armistice Day parade

tomorrow. We are at the very back, behind the grownups like the NFS and ARP and the

Salvation Army band. Even behind the Boys Brigade and the Boy Scouts. Brown Owl and

Tawny Owl will be in front of us, then a row of Sixers each with their six Brownies behind

them. I'm the Gnome sixer and Margaret, who's the Pixie sixer will be next to me. We all

have to march in straight lines and swing our arms like soldiers. We have to keep our eyes

straight in front and not wave to mam and granddad if we see them. Then when Brown Owl

says “Eyes left”, in front of the cenotaph, we have to look left over our shoulders and salute

with two fingers straight up and two little fingers bent down. We have to think about the

people with names on the cenotaph, who died in the Great War twenty-five years ago. We

don't know any of them because my mam and dad lived on Tyneside then and his dad's

name is on a cenotaph in Gateshead. But if we pray for them, there won't be any more wars

- except the one we're in now. I hope it works.

Remembrance Day 2015

Its Poppy Day on Sunday – well, like everything else nowadays, it’s more like Poppy Season.

It starts soon after the schools go back and lasts almost until the Christmas lights come on. If

they were real poppies, they'd have wilted by now. It’s just another marketing opportunity. I

shouldn't be cynical; the money goes to a good cause. On the local TV news tonight there was

an interview with a war veteran who will be laying a wreath at a remembrance ceremony on

Sunday. Why is it newsworthy? He returned from Afghanistan with just one remaining limb

and no balls. How can money compensate for that?

We've been doing this for almost a century. What changed? How many wars has it

prevented? At least his sons won't go to war, no thanks to Remembrance Day though.

Jane Hughes

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7. St Charles’s Church, Hadfield


The roll of honour is on the outside of

this quietly-situated Roman Catholic

church, on the north wall close to the

west door.

8. Hadfield Cenotaph

OS grid reference SK 0230096110

Outside Hadfield Town Hall at the junction

of Railway Street and Station Road stands a

typical cenotaph: a Winged Victory figure

balances with one foot on an orb surrounded

by a serpent; both hands are raised and the

left hand holds a wreath. The figure is

mounted on a plain tapered pylon to which

the roll of honour is affixed, and the base is

mounted from a flight of steps.

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Dear God, (because who else can I tell),

Childhood sweethearts they called us and that we were, but Dad said we were too young to be ‘an item’. He went to War, my Alfred, they shouldn’t have signed him up; he was too young. I kissed him softly on the lips, he said he’d be home by Christmas.

We worked long shifts at the aircraft factory, painting that foul smelling stuff, (dope they called it), on to the calico covered wings, but we were doing it for our boys and everyone had to ‘do their bit’.

I thought about Alfred every day at first and sent packages; socks, chocolate and cigarettes. He wanted me to ‘be with him’ before he left but I knew Dad would kill me if he found out or I fell for a baby. I kept thinking, what if he doesn’t come back? I should have let him, but I was afraid. Mum said it was a gift, only for your husband and if you give it away before you’re married, he won’t marry you and neither would anyone else, spoilt goods I’d be, but that’s all she said, so I didn’t really know much else. I felt him hard and strong pressing against me, I wasn’t sure if I was afraid of being ‘spoilt goods’ or of what was making that big bulge in Alfred’s trousers and just what he was going to do about it.

Later on, the girls in the factory talked a lot about ‘going with boys’ and I confess I began feeling a bit excited about seeing Alfred again, I blushed just to be thinking about it.

The papers were full of the names of those who had died, hundreds they said – Mrs Bryce next door lost both her lads that first year, but of course, that was just the beginning. I didn’t forget Alfred, just sort of got on with it, but somehow I couldn’t remember him so clearly. There had been some letters from him, where he’d just added a few lines to a pre-printed form, course Alfred was never much of a writer, so I didn’t worry too much. I nipped round to his Mum’s every now and then but she hadn’t heard anything much either.

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Cycling to the factory every day, working long hours and chatting to the girls took up most of my time really. I got home one day and Alfred’s mum was there. He’d been wounded in the leg she told me, he was in hospital up North, rehabilitation, she said, it was months before he came home.

I don’t know why his mum hadn’t told me, it was such a shock; that pinned up trouser leg and that wooden stump thing. Trying not to look at his leg, or absence of a leg, my eyes travelled up to his face, his skin was grey looking and his eyes seemed to be sunken in their sockets, he was shaky and unsure. I just didn’t know what to do, should I hug him, kiss him, I wanted to be sick; he was not the Alfred I had kissed softly all that time ago.

He wanted us to marry, so what could I say. Mr Williams, who owned a few properties locally, was going to set him up in a shop down the High Street, mending shoes. There were a couple of rooms at the back for us, so Alfred wouldn’t have to worry about stairs. We were only 19 but I suppose everyone wanted life to go on as ‘normal’, they said I was lucky, so many of the boys wouldn't be coming home. I didn’t know if Alfred would ever get that bulge in his trousers again and I didn’t like to ask as he leaned on me, he had a sort of strapped on wood and metal leg by that time, but walking back down the aisle towards a life neither of us had expected, I could tell he was in pain.

I hope this war is over soon and that what happened to my Alfred doesn't happen to anyone else.

Thanks for listening, God,

Yours sincerely, Betty. November 1917

Sarah Wingrove

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9. St Andrew’s Church, Hadfield


The approximately 360 names on this Roll of

Honour, in the south transept of the church, comprise

those men of the parish who served during the War;

those who died in battle are indicated. The memorial

is unusual in that it distinguishes those who were

killed on the battlefields from those who were

drowned through enemy action, and also indicates the

recipients of various medals.

10. All Saints Roman Catholic Church, Old Glossop


Designed by the celebrated local architect

Matthew Ellison

Hadfield, this grade

2 listed building on

Church Street, Old

Glossop, houses a wall-mounted board with incised

inscription and names, mounted below a shelf on which

stands a carved figure of a Bishop holding a staff in right

hand and a bible in his left. The Lamb of God lies at his

feet.

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11. All Saints Parish Church, Old Glossop


This building, much restored during the 19th

century, stands on the site of the medieval

parish church.

The roll of honour is in the St Catherine

Chapel in the north aisle, at the base of the

altar. The names are written in gold lettering

and arranged in three carved ogee arch

panels.

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Somme Talking

I returned from the fighting To the love I held so dear

She asked me and I told her Of the lads I'd come to know

Their names and their stories and Of homes they had left behind

But I will never tell her And she must never know

Of the madness of their slaughter And the hardness of my heart She asked me and I told her

Of the whistling as we marched Of the sharing and the talking And the cleaning of the guns


Of the mud and filth we lived in Or the rats that shared our nights

She asked me and I told her Of hot tea in chipped tin mugs

All the cigarettes we’d smoked though Our matches were always damp


Of the fear and urine trickling A s we waited at the ladders She asked me and I told her Of the officers we’d served

And how they checked our feet Or listened to our woes But I will never tell her

And she must never know Of their bodies and their blood Mixed

with mud all blown apart She asked me and I told her

Of the friends not coming home Of their bravery I witnessedAnd my sadness at their loss

¬But I will never tell her

And she must never hearSounds of whistles, shouts and screams

Cracking guns and deafening bombsAnd the crying of their dying

That I will always hear.

Sarah Wingrove

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12. Rose Green Working Men’s Club

Rose Green Working Men’s Club

stands at the junction between

Sheffield Road (the A57, about

half a mile east of the town centre)

and Silk Street, opposite the end of

Manor Park Road. The roll of

honour is in the upstairs room and

was placed there by the Ancient

Order of Foresters (now the Foresters Friendly Society), which has held meetings

there for more than a century.

The Ancient Order of Foresters was founded in 1834

as a community-based insurance company devoted to

helping those rendered destitute by circumstances

beyond their control, and gained legal status in

1850. It became an “approved society” under the

National Insurance Act of 1911 and in 1918 it

established a Foresters' War Memorial Benevolent

Fund to support those who had been severely affected

by losses during the First World War.

13. Co-operative Society, Norfolk Street

This plaque is situated above the door that opens

from the Cooperative building on to the station car

park beside Norfolk Street. Again, the names of the

dead in the First World War outnumber those in the

Second.

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Blazing trails of hate, bullets rain Young blood pouring, hopes destroyed

Body on body all dying in vain Fear, disbelief, confusion, pain

Shock then grief, the candles and tears Free and equal, brothers who mourn

In minutes of silence we bond Together in strength, we stand all.

Bomb vested boys, sure of their cause Lives blown to pieces, Allah Akbar!

Did your God ask for this blood spill? Is that your belief? I’m sorry

For you, you’ll not see Him from Hell But what of our ‘Peacemakers’, those

Bringers of war, players of power Their incendiary response sent

So much more blood, yet to be spilt Bodies in bits, buildings in ruins

Bomb, bullet strewn country, a shrine To the futility of war, oh lest we Forget but oh what did we learn?

The game is the same, the play evolved Complex, subversive, with death its goal

Peace is a dream, but not in our time?

Sarah Wingrove

14. Manor Park Memorial - Post Code SK13 7SH

The Garden of Remembrance is within the Formal Garden and contains this small and simple memorial. The memorial replaces an earlier version that was carved in the form of a book open in the middle, with the relevant dates inscribed on the ‘facing pages’ - one for the First World War, one for the Second.

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15. Glossop Grammar School (now the AdultLearning Centre)


The rolls of honour for both World Wars (only

the first is shown above) were originally in

this building. They were moved to the new

grammar school building on Talbot Road in

the late 1950s and placed high on the wall of the foyer outside Hall One. The

school subsequently became Glossopdale

Community College, and this photograph was taken

by kind permission of the College authorities. There

are plans to move the College to a new building in

Hadfield by March 2018, and the rolls of honour

will be reinstalled there.

16. St Luke’s Church


St Luke’s is in Fauvel Road, more or

less opposite the Adult Learning

Centre.

The roll of honour lists all those from the parish

who served during the First World War, and those

who died are indicated by “RIP”. The excellent

condition of this roll of honour owes much to the

careful restoration by Mike Brown of the Glossop

and District Heritage Trust.

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17. Glossop Cenotaph, Norfolk Square

In Norfolk Square in the town centre

stands a cenotaph designed exactly like

the one in Hadfield (see above): a Winged

Victory figure balances with one foot on

an orb surrounded by a serpent; both

hands are raised and the left hand holds a

wreath. The figure is mounted on a plain

tapered pylon to which the roll of honour

is affixed, and the base is mounted from a

flight of steps. These cenotaphs were

raised in 1922. Behind the cenotaph, in

Henry Street, the blue door of the Masonic Hall can be discerned. This building

also housed a roll of honour commemorating the war dead but no longer does so.

18. Market Hall Memorial Plaque, High Street West- - Grid reference SK034940

Outside the market arcade in the High Street,

directly opposite Norfolk Square, hangs this

bronze plaque with a pediment at the top and a

raised pattern border. The former Glossop

Borough Council coat of arms is shown at the

head, with a Lancashire rose over a fleury cross

and romanesque garlands on each side. The

plaque was presented by Isaac Jackson and his

wife in memory of the fallen. Mr Jackson

owned Hawkshead Mill in Old Glossop

(mentioned in the Introduction), where

efficient fuse caps were manufactured during the First World War. The widely-

held belief that his factory manufactured ammunition seems to be unfounded.

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Remember Willie Beard

Willie Beard, he was a Calico Printer`s Plater. `Til he rallied up and marched away to war. To do `his bit` for Family, King, and Country. But, he won`t be printing cotton any more.

Oh Willie Beard, Young Willie Beard. When you marched away from Glossop how they cheered. Did the pretty girls all weep and say they`ll see you in four weeks. Have you promises to keep there, Willie Beard

Willie Beard, you told a lie to get enlisted. And you made your Father promise not to tell. You swore you`d run away - and do it anyway. With your brother Louis joining up as well.

Oh Willie Beard, Dear Willie Beard. Is that front line just as dreadful as we feared. Did they let you write to Mother. Did you catch sight of your brother. He`s in one trench – you`re in`tuther - Willie Beard.

Those mills you knew that grew along the river. Are gone – you would not recognise this Town. Not like it was before – the day you went to war. I`m sure that makes you feel – we`ve let you down.

Oh Willie Beard, Poor Willie Beard. Most traces of your life have disappeared. So I`d like to take this chance. To send out all our thanks. To the ranks who sleep in France – with Willie Beard.

Willie and Louis are remembered in Norfolk Square. The photograph and story from WFTH member Christine Fennel The poem was written and set to music by Rob Stevens in his book of Great War poems and ballads - Remember Willy Beard ISBN 978-1-908046-05-5

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19. Philip Howard Memorial Plaque, Philip Howard Road

OS Grid Reference SK033939

This plaque is on the wall at the bottom of Philip

Howard Road, at the entrance to Harehills Park.

It was put in place in 1921 by Baron Howard of

Glossop in memory of his son Philip, who was killed

during the War.

20. St James the Great Church Lychgate, Hollincross Lane

OS Grid Reference SK0322993549

The roll of honour, set in two iron plaques, is located inside the oak lychgate of St

James’s Church. The plaques are said to be gilded, but Glossop Heritage Trust believes

the coating to be Hammerite paint. The lychgate has a stone base and a tiled roof. The list

of names reminds us how many families within a single parish were devastated by the

War: for example, they

include three Beards,

three Haughtons, four

Taylors and four

Bradburys.

(continued)

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(20. St James the Great continued)

Recipe For Loss

He'd four sisters, our Ralphie, so his da And ma spoiled him rotten, thought he'd go far.

Beloved brother, son, heir, last of the line, Would he follow his dad, diving the Tyne?

“The Tyne belongs to the Keedys” gran said, But not to Ralphie, he joined up instead.

He gave a false age, he was far too young. They sent him to France, he wasn't there long.

Though nursed in Hexham Red Cross Hall, he died. He was only eighteen, he shouldn't have lied. Left with five women, James family mourn.

The youngest got pregnant and Mansfield was born. Brought up as her brother, James had a son

To dive on the Tyne, inheritance won.

Jane Hughes

My mother's cousin came from a family of divers on the Tyne. He was brought home injured to a Red Cross hospital in Hexham. I found his address in my Gran's old recipe book.

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21. Littlemoor Chapel, Gladstone Street (now Bodycheck)


Although Littlemoor Chapel (built in 1811), like many other Non-Conformist

churches in the area, now serves secular function (it has become a fitness

centre), it has retained its roll of honour. The roll is a poorly-lit bronze plaque,

just inside the building to the left of the entrance door. There used to be three

light stained glass windows at the east end depicting, left to right, the badge of

the Royal Corps of Signals, the Good Samaritan and an open Bible.

28

The Old Guard He doesn’t talk about the war

Sitting with his pals. They all know about it;

They prefer to forget it now. Is it pain of the memories Almost too great to bear?

Or is it survivors guilt That holds them so?

We won’t know, They won’t say,

They prefer to keep it that way. They protected their families

From the horror of it all. Minimised the discomfort of

The suffering they saw. The loss of their comrades, The carnage they endured.

The times they were so terrified; The times that they died inside.

We won’t know. They won’t say.

They prefer to keep it that way. There are empty seats And missing people.

And a polished plaque upon the wall. With names of the fallen,

The friends who went before. And when he reads those names

He thinks of them. He seems so far away; Sits a little straighter,

Grips his stick a little harder. And the pals sit in silent sympathy,

Knowing what he knows. All going to the same place Each night where he goes.

But we will never, really know about it; And now they will never, ever say.

They prefer forever, to keep it that way. Tess Moore

29

22. St Mary’s Church, Sumner Street - OS grid reference SK0302293858

Outside this huge Roman Catholic church, in the south-western corner of the grounds,

stands a grotto erected in honour of those who died during the War. There is a carved

stone roll of honour on the left hand side of the grotto as you face it.

30

23. Freemasons’ Hall, Hague Street (formerly Methodist Chapel)

Located at the junction between Whitfield Avenue and Hague Street, this is

another former Methodist church that has been converted to another purpose (it

is now the Freemasons’ Hall) but retains its rolls of honour. Of particular interest

is the individual memorial to Lance Corporal Samuel Harrop, placed by his

bereaved parents.

31

A Soldier’s Homecoming

He came home with a different face Than the one she loved and knew.

But she believed buried deep Inside was the man who She thought she knew.

For the screaming terrors In the night.

She was there, To show him love and care.

The stammering speech, The shaking limbs,

Yes, that too She could bear.

She cried whilst he slept, For his ravaged face she wept.

Missed his Roman nose, Now crushed and marred.

Missed the handsome face, Ripped and scarred. A melted wax model

With features undefined. But what she found The hardest of all;

No matter what she said Or how hard she tried;

The man she knew Remained behind a stranger's face.

Buried deep, Hiding away inside.

Tess Moore

32

PLACES WHERE MEMORIALS

WERE FORMERLY HOUSED

Among the memorials originally located in the sites listed in this section of the

Trail, Glossop Heritage Trust has obtained photographs of some and has charge of

others or knows their whereabouts. However, these memorials or the photographs

of them are not currently accessible to the public, and are unlikely to be made

accessible unless and until the Trust once again secures premises spacious enough

to display its invaluable collection.

A. Brookfield Congregational Church - OS grid reference SK0207396424

Brookfield was formerly described as a hamlet about a mile from the village of

Dinting, but during the 19th century it became subsumed within the borough of

Glossop. The Independent church (later Congregational, later United Reform) was

built in 1883 and closed in 1981. It is now a DIY joinery/carpentry shop and the

adjacent building, formerly the Sunday School, is now an antiques centre. Its roll

of honour is believed still to exist but it is no longer at the site.

33

B. Bank Street Chapel (site of) - OS grid reference SK0204196212

Another former Methodist church, the impressively-located Bank Street chapel, stood

where the new houses shown in the right hand photograph now stand. The notice

describing the former church, which was destroyed by fire in 1997, can just be discerned

to the left of the telegraph pole in that photograph. The left hand photograph shows a

close-up of the notice including a picture of the church. The replacement Methodist

church in Station Street, Hadfield, has no memorial.

C. Padfield Wesleyan Chapel


Many of Glossopdale’s former Non-Conformist churches

have now been divided into flats. This large chapel was

built in 1880 on the site of its 1828 predecessor and was

extended in 1901. It was closed and sold during the 1970s.

It formerly housed a memorial comprising a pedimented

oak board with a leaf border around the edges, a monogram

‘PWS’ at the head and the coats of arms of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland in the

corners. Between the words ‘ROLL OF HONOUR’ was a Lancashire style red rose with

a crown.

34

The Returning Hero

When me Da came home Me Ma was glad.

She cried a lot, then laughed. But I looked in his eyes

And he looked at me I knew he worn’t me Da. Every night for a month

He went to bed; Never spoke, never smiled

Or nowt; But he kept us awake

As he screamed and screamed; And me poor Ma’s face

Grew haggard and bleak. ‘He’s bad in the head son’,

Me Ma said. ‘Fetch the doctor

Afore you go to school’. When I got home

Later that day, Me poor Da was gone.

An ambulance had took him away. Me Ma slumped by the fire,

Face grey with defeat and cried. I took her hand,

Held it tight, Nothin I could say

Would make it right. T’would have been so much better For me Ma, so much better for Da,

If the poor owd sod Bought it out there and died.

Tess Moore

35

D. Old Glossop Wesleyan Chapel, Wesley Street (formerly Brookside)

OS grid reference SK0307994183This was the

earliest Methodist chapel in the area except for

Littlemoor. Just as Littlemoor was built (1811) to

serve the needs of Methodists in the new

industrial area of Howardtown (now Glossop’s

town centre), so the Old Glossop chapel was built

(1813) to serve those in the old industrial area, where mills continued to thrive until the

20th century. Old Glossop was the centre of the parish during the early 19th century and

remained the location of the market until later in that century. The chapel closed in 1960

and is now a private residence.

E. Tabernacle Chapel, Manor Park Road (formerly

Hall Street) OS grid reference SK0415594416

Only two or three minutes’ walk from Old Glossop Wesley,

the Tabernacle (built 1837) was closed in the same year as

its neighbour – 1960 – and has more recently been

converted to privately-owned flats.

F. Elim Christian Centre, Ellison Street

36

Object

And some, they don’t want to understand; We don’t want to march with the band.

Rifle slung across our backs Bayonet at our hip.

Smiling with icy hands. Singing as we go.

Christ said turn the other cheek, Some think this means being meek,

Or even worse being weak. Its brave to face the foe.

Its brave to say No.

I will not kill my fellow man, I will not march to war,

I cannot for my conscience says This is not what my life is for.

Feather in my pocket, Spat at on the street.

'No you cannot work here!' Christ said be brave

Turn the other cheek.

Dragged off to prison, Called cowards one and all

I cannot fight, For my conscience says

This is not what my life is for. There has to be a better way,

There has to be more.

Tess Moore

37

G. Unitarian Church, Fitzalan Street


Yet another former church that is now a

private residence, this building stands opposite

the public library and the Adult Learning

Centre (the former Grammar School). It once

housed a glazed roll of honour with a very

dark fumed oak frame, which had a pale green (aquamarine) leaf motif border with an

intermittent cross hatch design. The words “ROLL OF HONOUR” formed a banner.

H. Conservative Club, Norfolk Street - OS grid reference: SK 03525 94124

This Grade II listed building, which stands opposite

the Co-op and the railway station, was built and

opened in 1909. In 2013 it was closed an offered for

auction. Its very extensive First World War roll of

honour is currently being cleaned and restored by the

Heritage Trust.

I. Wesleyan Reform Chapel, Howard Street


The Wesleyan Reform Chapel was built in 1854 and

closed in 1958. It now houses a medical practice.

38

J. Shrewsbury Street Chapel - OS grid reference SK03079941

This chapel was built in 1856 and closed in

1960. It is now given over to private

residences.

K. Mount Pleasant Chapel, Princess Street - OS grid reference SK0297293708

Yet another former place of worship that has now been made into flats, Mount Pleasant,

at the junction between Princess Street and St. Mary’s Road,

was built in 1893 and closed in 1959. It used to have stained

glass windows and a glass-fronted plaque bearing a fleur de lys

with an inscription and a roll of honour.

L. Ebenezer Chapel, Ebenezer Street


Opened in 1854 and closed in 1960, this former

chapel now houses the Whitfield youth club.

39

AFTERWORD

Anyone who follows this “Double Trail” in whole or in part will recognise the

range and variety of memorials that were raised to the three hundred and twenty or

more Glossop men who died during the First World War. Many more were

physically and/or psychologically wounded, or gassed, with significant implications

for their subsequent lives and for their families. Some men’s names appear on more

than one memorial. At least one name appears on five. Other names might not have

been recorded on any of our memorials.

This range and variety reflects the heterogeneity of the population of Glossopdale

during the early 20th century: Glossop was part industrial town, dominated by

cotton mills, and part traditional farming community. The people were mostly

Anglican or Methodist, though with significant minorities of Roman Catholics and

Non-Conformists. Memorials were financed by places of worship, places of

employment, the borough council, and other institutions such as the Freemasons.

Followers of the Trail will also notice how greatly the town and its surroundings

have changed during the past century. The memorials that were placed in the mills

are scarcely remembered now, and so many places of worship that formerly housed

rolls of honour have become private accommodation, businesses or other secular

establishments. But overall, enough remains to honour those who fell in the service

of their country and to ensure they are not forgotten by Glossopdale’s residents and

visitors.

40

For William Smith

Folk say round here he was a decent lad: Worked at the mill and never missed a day,

Quiet and steady and did nothing bad, Went steady with a lass up Mottram way;

Each week he took a full wage packet home; He never left a workmate in the lurch;

Enjoyed a pint or two when weekend come And laughed with pals, but never slept in church.

This valley, not the world, was his domain, And politics he left to greater men;

Doing the right thing never caused him pain: When call-up came, he went, and would again.

And here you still can see him, carved in stone, Trailing a list of others, and alone.

The final names of First World War victims recorded on the war memorial in Broadbottom are – in order - George Titterington, Tom Titterington, Arthur Wainwright, John Young, and William Smith. We notice that Broadbottom, like most communities in Britain, was obliged during the Great War to mourn the loss of more than one member of the same family, in this case the Titteringtons. But one cannot help noticing something else, too: William Smith’s name is out of place. Why? Probably his death was only reported or confirmed after the rest of the memorial had been completed. So many soldiers had simply disappeared without trace, and perhaps he was one. Or was William’s family late in providing the money required to have his name placed on the memorial? We shall probably never know.

Mark Henderson