A Jury of a Different Sort
Rita Hirst, our Haslingden connection, also found herself drawn into our attempts to solve the child-murder mystery. It was hard to resist, at least for some of us, and we all enjoyed finding new audiences with whom to share the story.
So Rita mentioned in an email:
Next month at our October meeting, several of us have been asked to give a 10/15 minute talk. I have decided that this story should be suitable.
David Higham sent Rita a map and photos of the various sites so that she could better visualize events. As she shared her thoughts with us on what she had figured out, they reflected the same kind of twists and queries as we were having:
I thought the bridge would be lower down nearer to Meanley Farm. They didn’t intend the child to be found, if they had, they wouldn’t have hidden him at all. They were bound to be found out. They were strangers to the area. The farmer from Field Head didn’t recognize them but it didn’t take the police long to arrive at Meanely Farm. They would make a shrewd guess that it was John Isherwood’s 2nd wife and her sister who was visiting with a child. I wonder how old James Edward was? He could only have been a baby himself and here she was, expecting another child, she can’t have been married long. In those days, you had to marry again to get cheap child care….
At the next meeting of the Family History Society in Haslingden, Rita presented our mystery to a rapt audience. I wish I could have been there. At the end of her presentation, but before revealing the verdict of the jury, Rita asked for a show of hands on the question of the guilt or innocence of the sisters.
That second jury, sitting one hundred and twenty years later in the town to which the Isherwoods had retreated, took a vote. On the facts that were presented to them, the attendees at the Family History Society meeting unanimously found Grace Isherwood and Isabella Gardner guilty of child murder.
Just One of the Mill Girls
The days had come to seem endless and boring. No longer a part-time worker, Maggie now left the house before seven in the morning to walk to the mill, and didn’t get home until almost seven at night.
On the factory floor the women all tended to look alike. It wasn’t because they had to wear a uniform, everyone knew that if you didn’t wrap your hair up tight and smooth down your apron over your clothes, the machines could easily catch on anything loose about your person. One of the girls had been scalped when her hair got caught in the machine, and after that there was renewed vigour in their braiding and use of hairpins.
At first, Maggie thought she would be deafened by the noise of the machines, the frames banging, and the shuttles knocking all day. But she began to learn the sign language that the other women used to communicate, and she found her good eyesight enabled her to read lips quite accurately.
Her da had always kept a tidy yard and he expected all of his children to be neat and clean, so the discipline and order that was needed to succeed in the mill sat comfortably with her.
They were paid by the piece, and she quickly observed that the fastest weavers inhaled the warp yarn through the shuttle to thread it in a quick sucking motion, though you had to be quick or the thread would go down your throat. With cotton fibres at your feet and floating in the air, it seemed the air one breathed was half cotton as it was.
There were a lot of rules, and she tried to obey them since failure to observe a rule could mean a fine or even a firing. Still, some things were hard to do, like waiting to use the necessaries. You wanted to wait as long as you could, because the closet was so dirty and the smell was so awful, but if you waited too long and you couldn’t attract the foreman to get permission, you could end up in a very bad way.
She liked to walk out with her muslin-wrapped dinner, even on bad days, to get away from the noise and the heat and the wet. Her clogs made a clattering sound as she hurried over to sit on the grass and eat her sandwich of thick butter and slices of onion. Thank goodness Grace had a knack for making a nice light loaf of bread.
The foreman was always at them to keep the machines clean, but he wouldn’t shut them off so you had to be quick to avoid accident. One afternoon Maggie’s friend Lucy got her hand caught fast in a wiper, and it pulled her fingers into the wheels before the machine could be stopped. Her screams of agony were louder than any of the noises from the machinery, and the vision of her mutilated hand came back to Maggie in dreams for years.
Maggie saw friends lost to seduction and lust as well. The mill’s overlooker was in a fine position to insinuate that cooperative girls would benefit with better working conditions, and some of her friends fooled themselves into thinking that they were actually loved. The adolescent Maggie understood enough of what had happened to her stepmother and her Gardner aunt Jane to look with disgust at anyone who tried.
Over time she decided she was looking for an older, steadier man, someone hard-working and sober, like her da. She also realized she wanted a different life. Everyone knew that by thirty a mill worker had lost her looks, and the long days standing on the wet floor at the mill convinced her it would eventually take her life as well. She was proud of her pert little figure, and she hoped she might use it to attract a man who wanted something more out of life than the exhausting and tedious life on offer in a mill town.
Sometimes on a Sunday, she and Matthew and brother Jack would talk about their life “before” — when they had all lived at Meanley Farm. While she couldn’t remember her ma any more, especially now she had no prompts to aid her memory, she did remember chasing ducks along the stream at the foot of the yard. She could remember rolling over and over on her side down the hills and playing with all her cousins. It all seemed so green and happy compared to their life now.
It’s a Hard-Knock Life
I have pored over photographs of women in Lancashire mills lined up in front of their looms. They look clean and tidy, and a little nervous at having their photograph taken. They are dwarfed by the machines, with their huge size and number, and the web of electrical connections in the air around the power looms reminds one of the risk of an electrical spark in the fibre-filled air. These photos are probably a reflection of conditions at their best, since the mill proprietors agreed to let them be taken.
Mill floors were kept damp to avoid sparks that could cause fires, so mill workers wore wooden clogs to try to keep their feet dry. Practical and economical, but the clogs also probably added further to the noise levels.
During a tour of the Helmshore Textile Museum, just outside Haslingden, the staff started up just one loom so that we mill visitors could experience the noise and speed, and we all were shocked at how loud it was. After that, I was really surprised that my grandmother showed no signs of hearing loss.
One can find testimonials on the Internet of children who worked in the mills and were lucky enough to grow old. Long hours, poor food, noise, air filled with fibres, wet floors, poor sanitation, lecherous bosses, and, even if you weren’t dying, the industry was.
Life expectancy for a mill worker was forty-eight years, a shocking figure by today’s standards. Work was six days a week and much of Sunday was often spent sleeping.
But there were some positive features of mill work. The salaries were good, especially compared to what girls could earn elsewhere, and the community of mill workers offered friendship and some fun. Music halls and pubs, fish and chips and ginger beer were their kind of recreation.
Married women who stayed at home and tended the hearth and the children had no money of their own. They had to depend on what their husbands and their working children passed on to them. A factory girl had a chance to make money and to acquire a taste for independence.
I remember my grandmother as a sprightly and independent woman, who held strong opinions. She must have been determined and daring to decide to emigrate to Canada. And perhaps she had no deep emotional connections in Lancashire, no life preferable to the unknown.
Before we left the textile museum, I bought some tea towels that had
been woven there. I thought of them fancifully as altar linens for my ancestral shrine. I could put them on the shelf where I keep the coffee mug decorated with the Slaidburn Angel.
A Member in Good Standing of the Mothers’ Union
I had thought that the newsworthy phase of Grace Isherwood’s life ended when she left Meanley. Consequently, I was surprised to learn that the Haslingden Guardian had provided its readers with detailed coverage of the deaths of both of the women named Grace Isherwood who were buried in the Haslingden cemetery.
First, in the Guardian of Friday, July 22, 1927, was a brief story entitled “Funeral of Miss Grace Isherwood”:
The funeral took place, on Monday last, of Miss Grace Isherwood, who lived in South Shore st. She was in her 23rd year, and was one of those who went to Blackpool a week or two ago with the trip given by Mr. Fred Tattersall, on the coming of age of his sons. She is described as being of a quiet and genial disposition and was connected with the Girl Guides attached to the Parish Church. The mourners were as follows: Mr. and Mrs. J. Isherwood, Mr. and Mrs. W. Barnes, Mr. M. Isherwood, Mr. Dick Isherwood, Mrs. J.E. Isherwood, Mr. and Mrs. T. Isherwood and family, Mr. and Mrs. W. Isherwood and family, Mr. and Mrs. J. Barnes and family, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Camm, Mr. T. Gardner and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. E. Gardner. Miss Sutcliffe, Mrs. Haworth and Mrs. Unwin. There were a large number of wreaths and flowers, including one from the employees of Messrs. J. H. Birtwistle. The Rev. R. W. Pedder conducted the funeral service. The arrangements were carried out by Messrs. J. J. Hamer and Sons, Blackburn road.
That sad little report explained to me why a young woman called Grace Isherwood was buried in grave C 999. Grace and John Isherwood were a fertile couple, producing Gracie when Grace was forty-four and John was fifty-seven. Little Gracie was the baby of the family by some years, and her “quiet and genial disposition” likely made her a comfort to her parents in their old age.
The death notice implies that her death was sudden, and her death certificate confirms that she died of pneumonia in the presence of her father.
Grace, Maggie’s half-sister, was born after Maggie had left for Canada and I don’t know if they ever even saw each other. On her death certificate, Grace was described as a cotton weaver, so she did follow in her older sister’s footsteps, at least as far as the mill.
The details of the passing of her mother, the former Grace Gardner, came as a further surprise to me. Just under a year after young Grace had died, A. Bremmer, M.D., the same medic who had attended at the death of young Grace, returned to 17 South Shore to certify the death of Grace Isherwood at sixty-eight years of age. The cause of death was a cerebral haemorrhage. Her husband, John, was present at the death.
It must have been terribly difficult for both John and Grace to absorb all of the blows that life had dealt them, and perhaps for Grace the death of her youngest daughter was one blow too many. On the other hand, Grace might have been going along quietly, dealing with life as it arrived on her doorstep, and one day she just had a stroke and died.
According to the Haslingden Guardian of June 8, 1928:
FUNERAL OF MRS. G. ISHERWOOD
The funeral took place on Tuesday at Haslingden Cemetery of Mrs. Grace Isherwood, wife of Mr. John G. Isherwood, of 17, South Shore, Haslingden, who is a retired builder. The deceased lady was a prominent worker at the Parish Church, and usually had charge of the tea arrangements at social functions. She was a member of the Mother’s Union, which organization was represented at the funeral. The Rev. R. P. Chadwick conducted a service at the house and the Rev. R. W. Pedder read the first part of the burial service at the Parish Church, where a considerable congregation assembled. The hymn “Abide with me” was sung. Mr. Pedder also performed the last rites at the graveside. The mourners were: Mr. J. G. Isherwood, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Barnes, Mr. John Barnes, Wife and family, Mr. Matthews and Mr. Richard B. Isherwood, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Isherwood and family, Mrs Willhena Isherwood, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Camm, Mrs. William Isherwood and family, Mr. Thos. and Miss Gardner, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardner, Mrs. A. Townley and Mrs. Irwin, Representatives of Mothers’ Union: Mrs. Worsley and Mrs. Higson. The wreathes were inscribed: A token of fond love to Mother, from husband Lizzie and Walter; In loving remembrance of dear Mother, Isabella Walter and John; In affectionate remembrance of a dear Mother, Tom, Maude and children; Lena and Elsie; Mrs. W. Isherwood, John and Alice; Doris; Edna; Brother Edward and Ellen Gardner (Accrington); Little Eric, Jennie and Ellis; Mr. and Mrs. Curran; Mrs Haworth and family; Ladies of Tea Tent, H.C.C.; Parish Church Sunday School; Mr. and Mrs. J. O. Parker; Miss Florence E. Sutcliffe; Brother Wm and family; Dorothy; Mothers’ Union, Parish Church. The funeral arrangements were carried out by J. J. Hammer and Sons.
There was “a considerable congregation assembled.” Grace and John had found themselves warmth and acceptance in Haslingden. They had clearly succeeded in escaping the taint of the past, and had become part of a new community where they were welcomed and appreciated.
While John was recorded as present at the death of his wife, I wonder at the state of his own health. The newspaper reports that the funeral began with a service in the home, which makes me wonder if John, who was by then eighty-one years old, was too feeble to make his way to the church.
Husband John was joined in floral tribute with daughter Elizabeth and her spouse, while daughter Isabella mentioned her husband and likely a son. Both of Grace’s surviving daughters had married a Barnes.
All five of Grace’s other children, James Edward, William, Joseph, Grace, and, of course, Thomas Gardner, had predeceased her. Six if you count the little one who was in her womb when Thomas died, but disappeared while she was in gaol. And possibly others, poor little lost souls.
Stepsons Matthew, Richard, and Tom all attended the funeral, while stepson John is not mentioned in the report. Her only stepdaughter, Margaret, had moved to Kaslo, British Columbia, almost thirty years before. It would have taken quite some time for a letter with news of Grace’s death to reach her.
Brothers William, Thomas, and Edward Gardner are noted to have attended, but there is no sign of sister Isabella or sister Jane. Where were they, I wonder?
Camm seems an unusual name, so it is interesting to note that a Mrs. Camm was walking with farmer Bargh and his wife near Slaidburn on that night in May 1885, and a Mrs. Camm attended the funeral of both Graces almost forty-five years later.
It is difficult to know what to say about the wreath from the Mothers’ Union.
Isabella’s Fate
One day my melancholy searching was rewarded: I discovered what became of Isabella.
I had been trying various searches on “freebmd,” a remarkable online source of the United Kingdom’s births, marriages, and deaths since 1837, when I finally hit upon the right combination of age and district and year and last name, and there she was — Isabella Gardner, dead in Ulverston in 1892 at twenty-five years of age.
The stark appearance of the information on the screen shocked and upset me. Guilty or not, she didn’t get to have much of a life.
With the rough date and place of death, Cathryn speedily got Isabella’s death certificate, and the information therein was even sadder than I had imagined:
Subject: Re: A Hot Lead
Dear Sheelagh
The death certificate has arrived.
As you know I sent it to Ulverston, however Ulverston is the registration district and not the town. In fact the certificate was produced by the ever helpful Mr. Henshaw. The registrar at Ulverston had checked their records, realised that it wasn’t Ulverston (the town) and sent my letter to Mr. Henshaw….
The details are
Date and place of death — Died 11 August, 1892, 39 Lord Street, Dalton
Name and age — Isabella Gardner, age 25 years
Occupation — Domestic Servant
Cause of death — Contused head, cerebral abscess
Certified by Arthur J. Cross M.D
Signature, description and residence
of informant — Grace Isherwood, sister, present at death, 39 Lord Street, Dalton
When registered — 11 August, 1892
Registrar — James Dickinson
I rang Mr. Henshaw to thank him and asked him to confirm that the cause of death reads “contused.” It does. (I wanted to make certain that it wasn’t “confused.”) He said that the cause of death was common, was one that he had seen often at the period, but was not sure exactly what it referred to.
I therefore rang my sister who is an intensive care unit nurse.
Contused means bruised and swollen, so I asked her if this showed that Isabella had fallen.
She replied (without prompting from me) that … “If someone of that age has died from ‘contused head, cerebral abscess,’ it would indicate some form of systemic disease rather than trauma. You would see cerebral abscess in the final stage of Tuberculosis and the head becomes bruised and swollen (contused) as your brain turns to mush.”
I don’t think that “mush” is a medical term but I think that it is very descriptive!
Since dying of TB takes time this is presumably why Grace had a chance/choice to be there.
I will post the certificate to you.
All the best Cathryn and David
The Slaidburn Angel Page 20