River Ouse Bargeman

by Lewis, David;

  The design of lorries themselves was steadily improved to cater for larger capacities. Alongside the growing motorway network, these changes meant that bulk road transport became more rapid and economic. One barge’s load was now only equivalent to six lorries-worth, and road collection and delivery from Goole took less than an hour, many times quicker than by barge.

  Increased canal tolls and dock charges further eroded the cost advantages of water transport. Although the license for an HGV was expensive, that was a one-off, annual charge. Tolls, wharfage and handling costs were incurred for every shipment. On top of that, only one man was needed to drive a lorry, and with the reduction in demarcation in handling cargoes, using road transport required less manpower, meaning the firm’s wage costs were reduced.

  All these factors meant that as the 1970s wore on, the decision that BOCM had to make about whether to renew their barge fleet or not tipped away from the use of the river. Signs of demise at Selby were becoming apparent. Michael Pearson, writing in Waterways World in November 1980 observed the decay of physical resources and the loss of age-old skills:

  ‘… we’ve been using the Ouse since Roman times, but for how much longer? Shipping to Selby is safe and growing … but BOCM’s fleet and men … are ageing and need new investment’.

  In the same article, Laurie commented, ‘a vessel of some sort could be built for road trailers and lorries to drive on and off a barge with no need for transhipping’. Universal containerization which is commonplace in 2016 was a dream in 1980, as was the change in the working world needed to enable it. Michael Pearson could see the strength in Laurie’s idea but wondered ‘whether he’d get that idea past the Hull dockers’. The thought that unionised labour could successfully hope to resist such modernization seems as odd now as the concept of container ships must have done then. Whilst all these changes were going on in the background, Laurie introduced his family to the joys of the waterways. Just as Sam had shown Laurie the ropes on board, Laurie himself took eldest son Raymond on the Selby Castor a few times.

  Laurie’s son Richard, probably aboard the Selby Michael. (Laurie Dews)

  Laurie and Richard in the cabin of the Selby Michael. (Laurie Dews)

  ‘My two nieces Maureen and Susan had a ride up to Selby on the Castor when they were staying with their grandma in Hull. They said they’d loved every minute. Now they’re older with their own families they talk and laugh about this “cruise”. By the time younger son Richard was old enough to come on board, I was skipper of the Selby Michael, and we had a few trips on board to Hull and Gainsborough. When we were moored up, he liked to go fishing in the docks.’

  However much fun these trips were, neither Raymond nor Richard took up a life afloat, instead settling for careers in engineering. Had they even wanted to follow in the family footsteps, the changes in the freight universe made such a course impossible. The inevitable decision to cease river transport came in the early 1980s. The barges that had served BOCM well for twenty years or so were pensioned off. Selby crews were made redundant in October 1981, with Hull men following a year later. The final seed cargo moved by members of the fleet occurred in 1982 when a load of shea nuts were brought to Selby from Goole. After this the craft were moored on the Ouse by the mills at Barlby for use as storage.

  Laurie’s son Richard and friends in the wheelhouse of a motorized barge. (Laurie Dews)

  Selby Maurice, Selby Richard (in front), Selby Michael and Selby Phillipa (behind) – potentially used as floating storage, but seemingly abandoned on the river bank, along with another member of the fleet, at Barlby in 1997. (Laurie Dews)

  The 1990s saw the craft gradually sold off. Ellen and Linda were leased then presumably purchased by Humber Barges for aggregate work on the Trent and to Leeds. More went entirely to the Trent to be used by Mason Brothers around Gainsborough and Newark and Waddington’s at Swinton purchased six. Others remained available for private sale or community use. As for Laurie, after the boats were moored up for the final time, he was employed by BOCM mainly on land-based work, as well as acting as a river pilot for skippers who did not have a working knowledge of the wiles of the Ouse.

  One of Laurie's last jobs was loading a cargo of oil drums using the crane on the wharf. This veteran crane, dating from the early years of the factory, didn't have a sufficiently long jib to place the oil drums in the barge's hold.

  A Crane built Taylor and Hubbard of Leicester's crane on the jetty at Barlby in 2010, around 20 years after its final use. (Author)

  'We couldn't get close enough to the jetty, so the bloke working the crane had to get the net of oil drums swinging. When the net swung out towards the barge, he released it and the drums flew into the hold. By, they made a noise!’

  River trade continued to decline, and the retirement age of 65 loomed.

  ‘The time came for me to retire on 19 September 1987 after fifty years of working the river. In all that time, I’d only fallen overboard twice. Once was in summer, but the worst one was in winter when there were ice floes in the river. A rope slipped and knocked me in. When the crew pulled me back on board I was never so cold in my whole life. What with the wind whistling through my sodden clothes, it was like standing there with nothing on! The rum came in handy again – it was the best medicine!

  ‘Anyway, the managing director called me into the office, gave me a large cheque, assured me of a monthly pension and wished me all the best for my retirement. In some ways, I’d done much better with a pension than my dad Sam. When he retired in 1953 he got a lump sum of £900 (about £25,000 today), but no weekly pension – and he lived another twenty-seven years

  ‘I had a lot of hard times on the river, but also a lot of good times. The job taught you how to look after yourself and learn lots of skills like painting, rope work and cooking. I made many friends, but I hardly see them now as they nearly all lived in and around Hull.’

  Over the years since Laurie’s retirement, the former BOCM site has gradually fallen into disrepair and dereliction. The old factory buildings are gradually being demolished. There are plans for ‘Olympia Park’ – a development of new houses, shops and light industry, with the former works’ clock tower as a central feature, but at the time of writing in early 2016, little constructive work appears to have been done on the site.

  ‘It was sad to look back on things after I retired. I had the chance to come down river from York on a pleasure boat, the River Palace after I’d retired. As we passed the BOCM jetties at Selby, I saw all their motor boats moored up, rusting away and thought what a shame that was. They could still have been put to use transporting cargoes. A few were initially used for storage, some were sold off as house boats but most were broken up. These conversions are worth a lot of money. One – either the Richard or the Doris – has been recently advertised for sale at £200,000!’

  Even after retirement, the river continues to hold a fascination.

  As described in chapter 1, the Norse-named river wave, the aegir, shows the tidal nature of the Ouse. Many people have heard of the River Severn’s bore, and perhaps have seen pictures of foolhardy folk surfing on it through Gloucestershire. The Ouse's aegir isn't surfable, but at full and new moons, particularly around spring and autumn equinoxes, the wave is an eerily wonderful natural phenomenon to observe.

  When Selby had trade that depended on the river, most families knew about for the aegir and looked out for it. Now that the town has turned its back on the river, it has become a little known experience. Laurie took great delight in introducing his grandchildren to this minor wonder of nature.

  ‘They used to say to me, “Granddad – what’s this river wave?” I took them down to the river bank just downstream from Selby Toll Bridge. We got comfy and watched the river flow. After ten minutes or so, they were getting bored and wanted to go home.

  ‘But I told them to wait – then suddenly the river current stilled, and we could hear a whooshing in the distance like a flock of birds swooping overhead. Then we saw
the reeds moving and then there it was – nine waves, one after the other, thrusting upstream, carrying all kinds of debris. The children looked on amazed. Their quiet river had changed into a torrent flowing in the opposite direction, and the level had gone up so much we had to move up the bank so as not to get our feet wet.’

  The training walls at Trent Falls have reduced the power of the aegir, but when the shipyards were still in business, on the appropriate days, a lookout was posted to cry out ‘Wor ! Aegir!’ and the men working on the ships would rapidly gather up their tools and move up the bank. They didn’t want their belongings swept up along with the general debris. One of the fleet did make a brief return to Selby over thirty years since being in regular traffic. The Selby Tony had been rescued from dereliction, renovated and made watertight, to be hauled to a mooring in York where it is planned it will become an arts venue called the York Artsbarge. Its dimensions of approximately 100x20 feet will be put to good use in providing a performance space, art gallery, bar and meeting rooms. The hulk was pushed upriver through Selby in March 2016.

  Selby Tony being pushed upriver through Selby Rail bridge, 2016. (Author)

  Selby Tony passing the remains of the Barlby wharves, 2016. (Author)

  The convoy also passed the Tony’s old work haunts at the BOCM jetties. The dereliction at this site is clear to see.

  ‘Another sad moment was dealing with the death of my parents. Before my Dad died at the age of 91 in 1980 he had told me that he wanted his ashes scattering on the river. One morning about 5am I was on the Michael between the Humber Bridge and buoy 28A. I slowed the engine down, and Johnny Roddam who was mate with me, came up on deck, doffed his cap and bowed his head as I scattered my dad's ashes over the stern.

  ‘Seven years later Mother died. Elisabeth had always been one for a challenge. Even at the age of 90, when she was in a wheelchair, she had a lot of spirit. She took part in a sponsored glider trip over the Humber Bridge. Now the glider had two compartments – one at the front for the passenger, and the one behind for the pilot. Mam didn’t know this, so when we put her into the front cockpit, she shouted out in alarm, “Am I supposed to fly this? You know I’ve never flown a glider before!” Reassured by the arrival of the real pilot, she had a great time and helped to raise a lot of money for Selby War Memorial Hospital.

  Remains of a wharf at Selby, 2014. (Author)

  ‘She had wanted me to spread her ashes as I had done with Dad, but by then I had retired, so had no boat. Instead my wife Marian and I drove down to the Humber Bridge. I waded out as far as I could and put her ashes on the water.’

  As for Laurie himself, he seems to have summed it up nicely when he spoke to a group of boating enthusiasts in Cottingham, near Hull in 2014.

  ‘I can’t complain. I’ve had a pretty good life. On the barges I never had to clock on, never had to work nine to five and worked with a great bunch of lads in a job I’d always wanted to do. You can’t do much better than that.’

  As for the Selby Waterfront, the Barlby factory and the fleet of BOCM barges, they still exist in one form or another, albeit greatly changed from Laurie’s time.

  The wharves that lined Ousegate in Selby lay unused for many years from the mid-1990s. Wintertime high river levels have washed away much that remained of the wooden structures of the wharves and jetties. Once it was finally decided that there was no commercial future for Williamson’s wharf, a small-scale housing development was begun there in 2015. The railway wharf remains empty and unused. Flats were built on the site of Connell’s yard in 2004, and the Sturge and Tate and Lyle jetties fell into disuse before that. Cochrane’s shipyard closed in the early 1990s with large areas of the site still remaining derelict.

  Derelict state of the wharf at Barlby, 2014. (Author)

  Part of the BOCM factory being demolished, 2016. (Author)

  Derelict part of the BOCM factory complex 2013. (Author)

  Remnants of the overhead railway, facing onto Barlby Road, 2014. (Author)

  Large swathes of the BOCM factory now lie either derelict or cleared to allow for the new developments. The wharves and jetties – subject to an improvement grant as recently as 2000 – are now in a ruinous state, with the historic Taylor and Hubbard crane that still remains on the wharf being in danger of toppling into the river. (Page 165.)

  Perhaps most poignantly, Laurie’s old barge, the Selby Michael remains afloat and on a river that she once served commercially, being tied up at Hazleford Lock, on the Trent. Sadly, she does not seem to be moored in any positive or meaningful fashion, having apparently been abandoned there since spring 2015. As the accompanying photos taken in March 2016 sadly show, she is slowly rusting away, her hold gradually filling with flood water and general debris. The carrying capacity of the hold remains clear to see. Even in this state, when photographed from a friendly angle, and using poetic licence aided by a tear in the eye, one can still imagine, fifty-six years after launch, Michael proudly awaiting to proceed down river carrying out a centuries-old commercial purpose, with her skipper cheerfully and confidently in command.

  Retired barge skipper and lighterman, Laurie Dews, 2014. The cheery grin and jauntily-angled cap remain constant . Look again at the picture from some seventy-five years earlier, on page 63. (Author)

  Selby Michael tied up at Hazleford Lock on the Trent, 2016. (Author)

  Selby Michael, as moored at Hazleford Lock, 2016, showing the capacity of the cargo hold. (Author)

  Appendix 1

  THE OCO/BOCM BARGE FLEETS

  This is a table of Watson’s original craft, barges of approximately 97ft by 18ft, to carry 200 tons of cargo. An * next to the name of a Selby barge means it remained part of the BOCM fleet in 1980, having given over fifty years’ service.

  Laurie, his granddaughter Gail and 3 other BOCM bargemen aboard the 'Selby Michael' at Whitaker's Dry Dock in Hull, circa 1980.

  Standard maintenance was at Connell’s Yard and Dry Dock, next to Selby Lock, at the junction of the Ouse and the Selby Canal.

  Several families had more than one barge. Not only were the Dews family heavily involved with Watsons, but the Wrays, Dysons, Taylors, Holdgates and the Middletons were also families with strong links to the Selby barge trade.

  These barges were built to last. Some were commandeered for use by the war department around Hull in the Second World War. Others may have been sunk in accidents (Selby Pollux) or burnt out by incendiaries (Selby Taurus) but in many cases they were repaired at the dry docks in Hull and gave over thirty years of service before being replaced by the motorized barges in the 1950s. By the end of the 1950s, the BOCM fleet had been modernized and consisted of eighteen self-propelled craft and nine remaining dumb barges.

  With the return of the barge skippers from the Second World War, and the introduction of the motorized barges in the table on page 175 in the 1950s, there were naturally changes in the roster. These are the details of the skippers as Laurie remembers them, from 1969 and 1980.

  A presentation to BOCM skippers and their wives c. 1961, to mark 15 years of service. L to R (rear) L. Taylor; E Taylor; Mrs. E. Taylor; L. Dews; H. Wray; Mrs. H. Wray and W. Batty (front) Mrs. L. Taylor; Mr. Flohil; Mrs. L. Dews and Mrs. W. Batty. Mr. Flohil was the chairman at BOCM who decided to give the fleet of motorized barges their personal names.

  The barges were given individual names linked to those of the family of the general manager of BOCM at the time, a Mr Flohill, or of families who worked in the BOCM offices.

  Not all of the barges had electric light initially, and all were without radar. After Connell’s dry dock in Selby closed in the late 1950s, maintenance switched to the Yorkshire Dry Dock Company in Hull. By 1969, some of the earlier barges with less powerful engines had begun to be phased out, marking the beginning of the end of the BOCM river traffic. Some nine dumb barges also remained in service and two more steel barges were added from Dunston’s yard in 1952, the Selby Libra and the Selby Capricorn. By 1980, if they were still with BOCM,
they were probably used as merely static storage vessels.

  Some of the family names from the 1920s were still in evidence – not only Dews, but also Taylor, Wray and Middleton.

  The City of York Corporation were responsible for the River Ouse navigation from York to Hook Railway Bridge. From the time they gained that responsibility in 1879, they provided a public towing service between York, Selby, Goole and Hull.

  By 1920, five tugs were available for this service.

  • Ebor Express: 1878–1930. Her name board is preserved at the buildings at Naburn Lock.

  • City of York: 1888–1923. Ended up in Hull as a coal boat.

  • Lancelot: 1905–1947. Sold to Peter Foster to tow barges in Hull.

  • Sir Joseph Rymer: 1909–1937.

  • Robie: 1915–1924. She is said to have been one of the tugs that led the German Fleet into Scapa Flow in 1918 at the end of the First World War.

  The engineer was a chap called Walter Press from Fulford near York. He and Robie must clearly have had a poor time at Scapa as the following letter from the river Navigation offices at Naburn, dated February 1919, has Walter in hospital in Scotland and Robie yet to be ‘released’ (presumably from war service). In fact, hauling on the Ouse in early 1919 must have been in a bad way as the letter describes ailments of other members of the fleet.