Explosions, Crime and Rewards - Stories From The Victorian Station Waiting Room

The waiting room was an early feature of British railway stations. The Liverpool and Manchester Railway, which opened in 1830 and was the world’s first inter-city railway, built waiting rooms at its two termini. Nevertheless, at the stopping places in between they were not present and other early railways also placed little importance on providing waiting room accommodation.[1] Francis Wishaw, who surveyed all the railways in Britain being planned or under construction in 1842, rarely mentioned them.[2]

However, as the time passed they were gradually introduced. Indeed, larger stations started being equipped with separate waiting rooms for men and women and the different classes of passenger. Liverpool Lime Street Station in 1836 had five waiting rooms for first and second class men and women, and one simply designated a ‘ladies’ waiting room.’ Five was also the number at Edinburgh Princes Street in 1896, where the fifth room was simply a ‘general waiting room.’ Most small stations could not be said to have such commodious facilities, most only possessing ‘first class ladies’ and ‘general’ waiting rooms. Inside them there was usually a fire and seating, which if you were lucky was upholstered.[3] Indeed, waiting rooms were were variable in quality and a common cause of complaint. In 1867 a passenger travelling from the London and North Western Railway’s (L&NWR) Huyton Quarry Station stated that the waiting room was unpainted, a ‘fusty’ odour hung in the air and in the winter months the room’s ‘occupants are ingeniously roasted by the fire on one side and exposed on the other to cold blasts.’[4] Nevertheless, the facilities for passengers in country stations were usually better in quality, tended to as they were by dedicated staff.[5]

While the history of waiting rooms’ themselves in the Victorian period is essentially uninteresting, they were places where people met and from which stories emerged. Therefore, a bit of a dig in nineteenth century newspapers has revealed some interesting stories.

Clearly, exploding waiting rooms were a problem given the gas lighting. On the morning of Monday 14 October 1869 at Newton Abbot Station a gas leak occurred in the waiting room. On discovering the leak a Mr Hemmett, the station’s inspector, went looking for it and did this by ill-advisedly lighting a lamp. Unsurprisingly, the gas that had collected in the ceiling exploded, causing Hemmett some injury.[6] A similar event occurred at 5 O’clock on Sunday 2 November 1873 at Kew Gardens Station. On the up side of the station the porter had lit the lamps in the station’s two waiting rooms. Evidently this was done poorly and gas started to accumulate in both. Thus, when another porter began lighting the external lamps this caused an explosion which blew out the rooms’ windows and doors and destroyed the ceilings. A booking clerk and several passengers narrowly escaped injury or death, with the damage coming to around £200.[7]

While possible death by explosion was clearly a risk, the waiting room could also be the site of crimes. On the 23 January 1871 at Shanklin Station on the Isle of Wight, Charles Colenutt was found sleeping in a chair. The station master, James V. Sully, led him out with the assistance of a porter. Yet, Colenutt returned ‘two or three times,’ and on the last struck Sully’s hat with his fist ‘rendering it unfit for further wear.’ At the Hampshire Petty Sessions on the 5 February, Colenutt was fined thirty shillings for the assault, fifteen shillings costs and ten shillings damages.[8] Clearly, for Colenutt the waiting room was a warm place to sleep the day away.

However, sleeping in a waiting room was not a cause of crime in the case of Alexander Thompson who ‘dropped off’ in the Chesterfield station waiting room on 1 August 1896. On that day, while Thompson was asleep there, Linther and Walter Hall entered the waiting room and stole his pocket watch which was worth £15. On rising from his slumber, the victim became aware that his watch chain was hanging down with nothing on its end. A search was conducted and the watch was found nearby. The blame was quickly placed on the Halls, who were arrested shortly after. At the trial, Walter blamed Linther, saying that the former had told him of the crime while in the “House of Correction.” Yet, Linther argued that Walter was trying to save himself, then launched into ‘a torrent of invectives’ against his brother and lastly claimed that Walter had asked for a pardon from the prison Chaplin. Both were found guilty and they imprisoned for four months with hard labour.[9]

With so many people coming and going from waiting rooms, it is unsurprising that incivility also occurred. One passenger in September 1865 complained bitterly about the ‘female official in charge’ of the Ladies Waiting Room at Newcastle Central Station. She described how a lady ‘who held a first class ticket’ for a journey north arrived at the station early and proceeded to the waiting room where she placed her basket on the long side table. The attendant quickly pronounced that “the company don’t like such things placed there.” Having used the table for its purpose, the passenger ignored the comment. Yet, she quickly received another shortly after; “You must take it off the table the company don’t like things there.” The passenger, somewhat confused, asked what the purpose of the table was if it was not for putting things on. The attendant carried on with her work while mumbling and the traveller put the basket on her knees to end the ‘annoying conduct’. The same attendant also accosted two women who entered the waiting room when their train was late. Once they had passed through the doors, she placed herself in front of them stating that “This room is for no one but those going by train.” On the women informing her that their train was late, the attendant’s response was that “People should enquire whether trains were late before coming – the company did not like persons sitting there.” She attendent then proceeded to pace about, muttering. Lastly, another passenger went into the waiting room’s inner room for a little water. The attendant followed her and rudely stated that those who wished to have a drink usually went to the refreshment room.[10 – see below for some thoughts on this case.]

However, waiting rooms were not just used for waiting for trains. In the Gateshead Station Waiting Room on the 2 October 1887 the local Railway Servants Temperance Union held a meeting at which Mrs J.J. Gurney gave an address. [11] In 1878 at the Kew Gardens Station waiting room, which I presume had been repaired by then, the life of a sick animal was ended. On the 7 October a ‘large black retriever dog in a state madness took possession of the ladies waiting room.’ The station master contacted the Metropolitan Police and very soon police constable No.302, John Smith, arrived with a gun. Nothing more could be done than to shoot the poor animal.[12] Furthermore, like today, passengers also left things in waiting rooms. In May 1869 a resident of Richmond (Surrey) offered a reward of five shillings for a ‘large bundle of MS. Pamphlets, Plays, &c’ with paper which was ‘stamped with a coronet’, which had been left in the station waiting room. [13]

I have only mentioned a few events, amongst millions, that occurred in Victorian station waiting rooms. Indeed, what are missing are descriptions of the more mundane meetings between Victorians as they went about their daily lives. However, I will leave you with the following article from an 1894 edition of Hearth and Home, which describes, through the life of a waiting room mirror, the coming and going of passengers.[14]

SPECIAL NOTICE

I will be doing a talk on 17 January at 6.30 pm at Kew Public Library on Victorian Railwaywomen, looking at who they were, where they worked in the industry and their pay and status. Refreshments a provided, all for a mere £1. If you would like to attend, call the library to book a place on 020 8734 3352 (Opening Times: Tues - 10-1, 2-6; Wed 2-6; Fri 2-6; Sat 10-1, 2-6) or email kew.library@richmond.gov.uk 

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[1] Biddle, Gordon, ‘Waiting Rooms’, The Oxford Companion to British Railway History, (Oxford, 1997), p.553

[2]Whishaw, Francis, The Railways of Great Britain and Ireland: Practically Described and Illustrated, (London, 1842), reprinted (Newton Abbot, 1969)

[3] Biddle, ‘Waiting Rooms’, The Oxford Companion to British Railway History, p.553

[4] Liverpool Mercury, Thursday, 21 November 21, 1867

[5] Biddle, ‘Waiting Rooms’, The Oxford Companion to British Railway History, p.553

[6] Trewman's Exeter Flying Post or Plymouth and Cornish Advertiser, Wednesday, 14 October 1863

[7] The Pall Mall Gazette, Monday, 3 November 1873

[8] Hampshire Telegraph and Sussex Chronicle etc, Wednesday, 8 February 1871

[9] The Derby Mercury, Wednesday, 28 October 1896

[10] The Newcastle Courant etc, Friday, 8 September 1865 – NOTE: On reflection I believe that the attendant at Newcastle was probably suffering from what now would be recognised as mental health problems. Indeed, given that the woman was probably a widow of a railwayman who had been killed in the course of his work and was probably living in poverty with dependents, these factors may have had an effect. The sad thing is that a letter such as this would probably have ended her employment, pushing her into even more hardship. Indeed, I have recounted a similar case HERE which ended up with in attendant going onto the workhouse.

[11] The British Women's Temperance Journal, 1 December 1887 p.134, Issue 60 and 12

[12] The Sporting Gazette, 12 October 1878, p.973

[13] Judy, Wednesday, 19 May 1869 p.38

[14] Hearth and Home, Thursday, 8 November 1894, p.923

‘Crabbed, morose and irritable’ - One Liverpool Man's Complaints Against the L&NWR in 1867

Complaining about the Britain’s railways is not a new phenomenon. Indeed, I have seen many complaints about many railways in my studies of the Victorian railway industry. However, never have I seen a catalogue of complaints as long as those presented by ‘A CONTRACTOR’ in the Liverpool Mercury in late 1867. Starting on the Monday October 21^st and ending on Tuesday December 10^th, this man levelled in six parts a sustained attack on the London and North Western Railway’s (L&NWR) services in and around Liverpool.

He had, some years previous to his letters, become a commuter travelling the ‘eight or nine miles’ between Huyton Quarry and Liverpool daily. He believed this would be a quicker and more comfortable way to travel than the omnibus. But it soon became the bane of his existence, stating, ‘I dread it with increasing and absorbing dread.’ He felt he was increasingly becoming ‘crabbed, morose and irritable’ and that he was ‘now thrown into a tremor by the slightest incident.’ He concluded that he attributed the change in his disposition to the ‘vexatious, annoying and nerve destroying influences to which I am daily subject in my travels to and from Liverpool.’ Indeed, he argued that the L&NWR ran the line as it had been done when it was opened by the Liverpool and Manchester railway in 1830.[1]

Naturally, I cannot go into all of the individuals’ complaints. However, I will touch on the main ones. The first, which brought on his nerves, was his fear of being killed. He stated that in his commute over the years ‘four persons have been mangled and mutilated to death by trains in which I have travelled.’ But furthermore, he stated that while directors allowed ‘hundreds of thousands of pounds to be found for shortening the distance to London by two or a dozen miles,’ narrow stations were left dark at night where ‘people [may] tumble off and be killed,’ and level crossings ‘on the line must be abolished’ as many an accident or ‘near-miss had occurred. Thus ‘neither decent accommodation is given to those who use the railway, nor proper protection to those who are obliged to cross it.’[2]

It was in the second letter, of October 29^th, that our letter-writer began to attack the quality of the L&NWR’s stations. He started, with his home station of Huyton Quarry which he argued ‘might be a station in Chancery, so out-of-elbows does it look, or belong to some bankrupt company, who could not afford a few pounds to put in a tolerably descent condition.’ He complained that the station house could do with a spot of paint, but quickly moved onto its accommodation. He stated that at one end of it was ‘a dirty, dismal, low-pitched den which serves the double purpose of booking office and waiting room,’ and measured only 12ft by 8ft. One half was ‘appropriated by the officials, and the remainder is generously accorded to the public.’ The room was unpainted, there was a ‘fusty’ odour and there was a small ‘settle’ (fireplace) where in the winter months the room’s ‘occupants are ingeniously roasted by the fire on one side and exposed on the other to cold blasts.’

Outside station house was what he called ‘a semblance of a platform,’ that he asserted was never completed, becoming at one end ‘small by degrees and beautifully less’ until the level of the line is reached.’ Thus, when alighting the train at one of the platform he had the task of jumping down from the carriage. Lastly, the L&NWR had put up a ‘convenience in a position where it is overlooked without any pretence at concealment at all, by any person passing along one of the public roads,’ for which the drainage was no more than a ‘few wisps of straw.’[3] While complaining about Huyton Quarry Station at length, he also stated that he had heard of other deficient facilities elsewhere and frequently ‘compared notes with fellow travellers.’[4]While it won’t be related here, he related at length the dire facilities at Roby, Broadgreen, Edgehill [5] and Liverpool Lime Street Stations.

Indeed, at the Lime Street Station the ‘CONTRACTOR’ complained about how trains were brought out of the station because of the incline through the tunnel outside it. Firstly, a train was drawn by locomotive to the tunnel’s mouth. The locomotive would ‘go onto one line’ and proceed to the other end of the tunnel, while the carriages would remain on the original line. A rope was then attached to the front of the carriages and a steam engine at the Edgehill end of the tunnel would haul them up the incline to be reunited with the locomotive. Following on from this, he also detailed how trains were let down the incline. A break van was attached to the front of the train with the rope attached behind. The train was then allowed to freewheel down the incline with a breakman steadying its speed by judiciously applying the break. Overall, he argued that ‘is it not disgraceful that in these days of mechanical contrivances human life should be at the mercy of such primitive devices.’ Furthermore, with these procedures taking between ‘5 and 25 minutes,’ our author complained that no light penetrated the carriages and, thus, he was in a pitch-dark carriage with ‘persons whom you do not know and cannot see,’ a position which he felt perilous for all the obvious reasons.[6]

While I have not highlighted all of the author’s complaints, it is clear who he blamed for these deficient aspects of the L&NWR’s service: ‘the directors who rule the roost at Euston-square.’ Interestingly, the author framed his complaints in terms of the North-South divide, asserting on many occasions that services and facilities in the south were superior, and that directors could find money for improvements or railway empire-building when they required. Indeed, he stated, over the issue of level crossings that ‘I believe that the Liverpool members of the board have endeavoured to bring about some improvements, but that they are out-voted by the London interest,’ [7] and this comment is indicative of a feeling that runs through the correspondence. I cannot be certain whether his assertions as to the state of the line, with the exception of the practices at Lime Street, were strictly true. But it is certain that he felt the north-south divide and the distance of the L&NWR directors from Liverpool, affected how they implemented policy there.

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[1] Liverpool Mercury, Monday, October 21, 1867; Issue 6156

[2] Liverpool Mercury, Monday, October 21, 1867; Issue 6156

[3] Liverpool Mercury, Tuesday, November 12, 1867; Issue 6175

[4] Liverpool Mercury, Thursday, November 21, 1867; Issue 6183

[5] Liverpool Mercury, Thursday, November 28, 1867; Issue 6189

[6] Liverpool Mercury, Thursday, November 28, 1867; Issue 6189

[7] Liverpool Mercury, Monday, October 21, 1867; Issue 6156

Selling at Stations - The first W.H. Smith Station Bookstalls

Usually, before our train journeys we feel the urge to have something to read while being conveyed to our destination. We go in to the shop at the station, choose our book or magazine of choice, pay for it and leave. I suspect for most of us the fact that we made our purchase in a W.H.Smiths barely crosses our mind. They are just there, woven into the fabric of our travelling experience. Yes they do have a monopoly, and perhaps that that isn’t the best thing in the world. However, the fact that we do not question this monopoly is because Smiths has been providing this service so well for a very long time. Since 1848 in fact.

In 1792 Henry Walton and Anna Smith opened as news vendors in Little Grosvenor Street, London. This was on the back of the growth in newspaper titles since the mid-1750s, and by this date there were eight regular morning dailies and nine evening papers in the city.[1] In 1812 on the deaths of Henry and Anne their son William Henry took over the business. William soon expanded it, and with his brother Henry opened up a reading room at 192 Strand in 1821.[2] Their new enterprise’s position close to centre of the newspaper industry on Fleet Street and the Stamp office at Somerset House would soon pay off, and soon Smith began to expand his operation into one increasingly concerned with the ‘transmission and sale of London newspapers to the provinces.’[3] Thus, via mail-coaches the company created a nation-wide newspaper distribution network.[4]

With the growth of the railways Smith used them to distribute London newspapers across the nation. However, in 1846, William Henry went into partnership with his son, also William Henry, creating W.H. Smith and Sons.[5] The son soon saw the opportunity to place their bookstalls in stations. Prior to W.H. Smith moving in on the market, many of the newspaper vendors at stations were former railway employees (many of whom were crippled) or their widows who were trying to make ends-meat. For them, this was the best pension that they could expect receive. Generally what they sold was a mixture of soiled newspapers, ‘improper literature,’ gingerbeer bottles and tarts.[6]

The lack of newspaper vendors at stations selling quality publications was an opportunity for Smith. Thus, in August 1848 he approached the London and North Western Railway with a view to securing ‘exclusive rights to sell books and periodicals on stations.’ Smith would also endeavour to provide employment for the vendors that he replaced. Only a month later Smith’s tender was accepted. He would pay £1,500 for ‘the privilege of selling Newspapers etc. at all the Railway Stations now under the sole control of the LNWR.’ Euston was chosen as the first site for a bookstall, which opened on the 1^st November 1848.[7]

Quickly, the number of bookstalls that Smith controlled grew, and between 1848 and 1863 he secured contracts with the following railways:-

1848 – London and North Western Railway

1851 - Great Northern Railway, London and South Western Railway, Eastern Counties, Lancashire and Yorkshire, London, Brighton and South Coast, North Staffordshire, North British

1852 – South Eastern, Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire,

1854 – Midland Railway

1863 – Great Western Railway [8]

Thus, by 1865 most of the main line stations and many of the smaller ones had a W.H.Smith bookstall. Smith had, in the space of a mere 15 years, created an empire which had a virtual monopoly on the reading habits of the travelling public, a testament to Smith’s business acumen and foresight. While his and his successor’s relationships with the railway companies were not always smooth, this is a dominance that still persists to this day.

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[1] Wilson, Charles, First with the News: The History of W.H.Smith, 1792-1972, (London, 1985), p.10-11

[2] Wilson, First with the News, p.17

[3] Wilson, First with the News, p.37

[4] The First WH Smith Railway Bookstall -Questia Online

[5] Wikipedia Wikipedia - W.H. Smith

[6] Wilson, First with the News, p.102-103

[7] Wilson, First with the News, p.103

[8] Wilson, First with the News, p.99 and 132

Some Rules for Station Masters

For much of British Railway history, the station master occupied a special place in the interweaving melee of railway company operations. They were responsible for the companies’ key units of operation, the station. It was to their stations that the traders came to send their wares, where holiday adventures began and to where people returned after an evening out, happy in the knowledge that they were near to home. Therefore, because they were central to the smooth operation of the railway industry, the activities that they were tasked with are worthy of study.

Of course, the duties of station masters changed through the years. What may have been of concern to station masters in 1840, may have been outside their remit in 1940. For this blog post I have decided to look at the duties of station masters in 1933, as in this year Britain’s railway companies produced a new rule book for the staff, the content of which all had agreed to through the Railway Clearing House. Therefore, the basic duties of a station master in Penzance on the Great Western Railway were very similar, if not identical, to those of his compatriot in Edinburgh on the London and North Eastern Railway. For this blog I will be using the London and North Eastern Railway’s rule book (although it wouldn’t really matter which one I used) to describe some of the key duties of the British station master in 1933. The numbers in brackets are the rule numbers from the book.

Naturally, station masters were to be responsible for everything that went on at the station. Interestingly, the first rule specifically directed at station masters specifies that the ‘security and protection of the buildings and property at the station’ were their concern (17i). Could it be that the authors of the rule book, buy putting this rule first, were subconsciously channelling their desire to protect the companies’ property and its revenue? Further, they were to undertake a daily inspection of the station to inspect its ‘cleanliness and neatness of all premises (including closets and urinals), signboards &c,’ such was the emphasis in this period on maintaining a good outwards appearance of the station (17vi).

But the property of the station wasn’t the only thing they had to look after, and the station master had to marshal all the employees at stations (18). Therefore, it was the station master’s duty to oversee that all operations, whether it be the sorting of wagons, the coupling of carriages, the painting the white line along the platform’s edge, or tending to the flower beds, were done in a safe and efficient manner by staff (17iii/19). Prevention of accidents was also achieved by making sure that all staff had the rule book on them at all times and that they were aware of any additional notices that may have altered its content (17iv). They were also responsible for curtailing wastage at the station, and all stores were to be ‘properly and economically used (17x). Lastly, the station masters were to ‘make himself acquainted’ with all the signal boxes and signalmen that he was in charge of, evidently to make sure they weren’t asleep (17v).

Safety was to be ensured in other ways. Because station masters must have seen a lot of rolling stock pass through their stations, they played a role in reporting any defects that they found within the trains. When a carriage or wagon examiner had to inspect a train for defects, the station master had to ensure that this work had been completed before the train was allowed to leave. (28a) However, if an examiner was not present, the station master, if his staff could not fix a defect, was to have the offending vehicle removed from a train, hopefully not with any passengers inside (28b). Further, if any signals, points or any other aspect of the line was found to be defective, these were to be reported as soon as was possible (61)

However, apart from these outdoor jobs, which could have been good or bad depending on the station at which he was posted, the station masters’ main duties were being chained to a desk doing paperwork. All new orders and instructions coming into the station, of which there were multitudes, were to be noted. Further, all books that recorded everything from passenger numbers, wages paid, wagons moved, gas consumption and most importantly, income, were to be written up and sent to the central headquarters (17vii). Indeed, a large part of the station master’s duties was not just ensuring the smooth flow of traffic, but also enduring the smooth flow of information up the organisation so that senior managers could analyse it.

Another large part of the station master’s day would be dealing the great unwashed. Naturally, they had to make sure that passengers were not unruly and that the Bylaws of the company were displayed clearly so that the customers knew what they could and couldn’t do. Further, they were to ensure that all the fares, notices, the Carrier’s Act and all other public declarations were clearly displayed (17viii). If, for whatever reason, the customers were unhappy, the station masters were to promptly send all complaints to head office (17ix).

Of course, these weren’t all the duties of the station masters on Britain’s railways in 1933, but it is the core selection. Clearly, this evidence shows that station masters had huge responsibilities and kept Britain’s railways running.

Three Station Masters at Hampton Court - The Odd Bunch

I have been always been interested in the lives of railway workers, and what has particularly peaked my interest are those individuals that worked at my local station, Hampton Court, in the Victorian period. Astoundingly, between 1849, when the station was built, and 1895, Hampton Court only had four station agents (later called station masters). The line, which came off the London to Southampton main line just past Kingston Station (now Surbiton), was built throughout 1848, and opened for traffic on the 1^st February 1849. The London and South Western Railway had been interested in the tourist traffic going to the Hampton Court Palace since 1839. Therefore,those individuals that took up the position of station master is of interest as this was a prestige post.

The first Station Agent or Master was John Madigan. Like most of the staff based at Hampton Court in the period, Madigan was not from the local area. A minute of the Traffic and coaching committee of the 23rd February 1849 boasts that the company's three major projects at the time, the extension of the line from Nine Elms to Waterloo, the Windsor line and lastly the Hampton Court Branch were all 'manned without adding a single individual to the company's staff.' This indicates that Madigan had joined the railway at an earlier point. Indeed, Madigan had started as a clerk at Nine Elms in 1840, had been moved to Winchester in 1841, Botley in 1842 and Wareham in 1847.

But what of his background? On the 1851 census it shows that Madigan was from Ireland. He was 29 year old, meaning he was born in either 1822 or 23, was married, and was listed as living in the 'Corn House Building'. Having come from Ireland it is quite possible that Madigan had brought his young family over during the Irish Potato famine. Many of the Irish who came over to work on the railways during this period only took positions as navvies. However, Madigan's employment shows that as time progressed more immigrants went into the operational side of the railways taking on administrative jobs. The position of Station Agent was not as prestige as it became in the later Victorian period, yet for an Irish immigrant of only 29 years of age, running a station would have been quite an achievement. Madigan was moved to Windsor in September 1851 and the station agency was taken over by William P. Legh.

Like Madigan, Legh was not a local being born in Windsor in 1810. He was very well educated. In his notice of retirement in 1882 the South Western Gazette, the company's staff magazine, notes that he was at Eton and was a contemporary of the sitting Prime Minister at the time Gladstone. Legh obtained his first railway job when he entered the company as a clerk in the Stores Department at Nine Elms in 1847 . The formal process of job appointment was through a process of nepotism and he would have been nominated by one of the directors of the company. It is possible that his family knew some company directors, perhaps through an Eton contact.

As a well-educated clerk in the Traffic Department in 1847, Legh's promotion prospects were good, and he was quickly moved to the Booking Office at Nine Elms station. In 1848 he was made Station Agent at Adlestone Station, after which he moved in 1850 to Hounslow. In 1851 he was transferred to Hampton Court. The system of advancement on the London and South Western Railway was quite erratic and promotion was based on a number of factors, such as how good the employee was at their job and their degree of contacts within the company. Another possible explanation is that the Traffic Managers at the time, Mr Stovin up to 1852 and Mr Scott after, were actively trying to advance Legh. Employees of the company were not allowed to enter the company as station master at the time, and the majority of employees in the main were expected to work up from the bottom. Legh starts in a very cushy position as a Clerk in the stores department and rapidly worked his way through gradually more important stations. Thus, he may have been subject to further nepotism after his appointment. As a result in 1853 he became Assistant Superintendent at Waterloo.

This was short lived and in 1855, for an unknown reason, he was moved back to Hampton Court. He never married and lived in the station building until his retirement in 1882 at the age of 72. On his retirement he was on a wage of £110 a year, at the top end of the scale. He retired with a yearly allowance of £95 from the pension fund. He died on the 9^th July 1883 and was buried in West Molesey Cemetery on the 12^th July 1883. (Molesey is actually where the station is built and on the other side of the river from the Palace) The funeral was attended by Mr Chalwin the Goods Clerk, Mr Whittington the delivery agent, Inspector Nicholson of Waterloo Station and by the new station agent of Hampton Court, John McDougall. Clearly, Legh's appointment indicates that the position of Station Agent was gaining in prestige, as being appointed after an Irish immigrant, the ex-Eton student's posting suggests that the company wished to have an employee in the position of a higher social standing. It is, however, unusual for someone who had such impressive education to be placed in such a position, especially as the majority of station agents, when they first became clerks, would only have had basic elementary schooling.

I have found a lot more about Legh's successor, John McDougall. Once again McDougall did not come from Molesey, rather he was born in the Scottish Borders at Gordon near Kelso in 1831. He joined the railway company in 1860, becoming a porter at Waterloo in 1860. He started as a guard based at Hampton Court almost immediately after, and was appointed as an Inspector at the station in 1873. In the 1871 census he is recorded as being a married and living at 7 Creek Road, aged 40. In the 1881 census he is listed as living in Osborne Villa in Matham Road with his wife, Annie, his daughter Rosa, and two other railway employees. By this point however he was already reliving the ailing Legh of some of his administrative work, something that presumably precipitated his rise to the post of Station Master. In February 1880 The Locomotive committee paid McDougall £5 for filling in the Locomotive Department returns for a year. This he did for a number of years.

There is also evidence that McDougall was gaining the respect and profile of a Station Agent, and this is why he is one of the most unusual appointments to such a post that I have encountered for a long time. On two occasions, in April 1880 and in December 1881, the Traffic Committee of the L&SWR reported being petitioned at first by the residents of Molesey and then by the local board for him to be the next Station Agent. This was eventually confirmed on the 15^th February 1882, when he was put on a wage of £95 per year. Most station masters had to start as junior clerks and work their way upwards. McDougall, however, was not a clerk and therefore was only advanced to agent on the basis of the love that the people of Molesey had for him. This is shown through a lot of evidence in the South Western Gazette.

It is obvious that McDougall was a popular, efficient and good natured station master. On two occasions McDougall organised charitable donations for worthy causes. In 1881 each station, including Hampton Court, had a donation box for employees at Christmas. He suggested that each member of the station staff should donate a small portion to the London and South Western Railway's Widows and Orphans fund. 10 shillings was given by 16 men. In February 1884 there was an accident at Nine Elms, the main goods depot of the railway, in which a member of staff lost both his feet. McDougall organised a collection for the injured man, raising 9s 3d. This was again from the Christmas box.

McDougall also received a good number of honours and accolades from both the travelling public and local residents. The most notable came from Baron Pawell Von Rammingen, and his wife HRH Princess Frederica Von Rammingen. They lived in the palace and were regular travellers. On December 26^th 1881, while he was still and inspector, the Princess presented him with a 'massive gold scarf pin set with pearl and pale coral.' She also gave him £4 to be divided between the station staff. In May 1885 the Baron presented him with a gold horseshoe pin set with Pearls as a new years gift. The last present that I have found was given in 1890 when they presented McDougall with a gift of a cut glass inkstand with silver tap and silver tray. On it was inscribed, “Presented by HRH Princess Frederica and the Baron Pawell Von Rammingen to J. McDougall, Station Master, Hampton Court.”

It has already been shown how respected McDougall was around the town. However, another accolade came on the occasion of his 20 years at the station in 1885 when it was “thought by many of the travelling public that so long a term spent in one place fairly deserved some recognition.” As such a committee was formed by local residents including the Reverend W.F. Reynolds, Rear Admiral Wilson, Capt Lonsdale, Mr Evan McGregor C.B., and Messrs Fletcher, Kennedy, Payne, Keeling, Young-Adams and Garland. Mr Athelstan was honorary secretary. The goal was to invite subscriptions for a testimonial, and a circular that was issued stated their efforts were in recognition of McDougall's “invariable courtesy and attention to the travelling public in general and the residents in this vicinity in particular during the past 20 years.” The call for subscriptions was widely heeded and Rear-Admiral Wilson sent McDougall just over 40 guineas, which, accounting for inflation, would be be worth around £1700 today. At the end of the letter that accompanied the gift it stated that the contributors hoped that McDougall would 'enjoy health and strength to continue the performance of his duties with the same credit to himself and comfort to others.”

Yet there was one point at which the station master's character, integrity and good nature was attacked. In September 1888 McDougall was summoned to court by Edwin Elphick, a cab driver, for using 'abusive, threatening and insulting language, with an intent to create a breech of the peace in the station yard.' All the evidence was stacked against Elphick. McDougall had seen that Elphick was drunk and asked his boss Mr Bowery not send him into the yard. Yet the next day Elphick reappeared, at which point McDougall ordered him out of the cab yard. Elphick became abusive towards the station master. The judge ruled in favour of McDougall and the case was thrown out before the defence could call any witnesses.

Towards the end of 1894 McDougall's health started to fail him. A Traffic Committee Minute of 23rd of February 1895 stated that at 64 years of age, and at the top of his pay scale of £110, he wished to retire as he had been certified permanently incapacitated. He was retired on the 1st February and was replaced by Mr F. Molyneaux, formally agent at Sunningdale.

The station masters at Hampton Court were probably the most unusual group of people to occupy the position of station agent at one location. An Irish immigrant, an Eton-educated man and an member of the Traffic Department's non-clerical staff, were three groups of people that were all very unlikely to be appointed to such posts. It is, therefore, unusual that an example of each were all located in the same place. Hampton Court doesn't therefore represent employment patterns typically found elsewhere in the company and makes an interesting case-study.

PLEASE NOTE: This is something I wrote 4 years ago. It was copied and pasted from a talk script I knocked up at the time, as being knocked off my pedal bike has rendered my left hand unable to type.

1862 - The true and tragic story of Mary Ramsdale and Family

Sometimes I come across some shocking and very sad stories when doing my research on the Victorian railway. I freely admit that it is easy for historians to view groups people in the past, particularly the poorer sections of society, as homogeneous faceless statistics. We can then use the statistics as evidence and can draw conclusions. When doing my work I rarely have need to move past this approach or acknowledge that every statistic I employ as evidence was a person with emotions, desires, highs and lows. This is why the case of Mary Ramsdale and her family particularly got to me this week. I feel the need to share it with everyone as it is probably the first time that she and her family have been acknowledged individually by anyone for 150 years. Also it just made me feel very sad.

A bit of background is required. When a railwayman was killed on the line railway companies, as an act of benevolence, would employ the widow so as to give support to the family. They were employed in such roles as Gatekeepers, Waiting Room Attendants or Charwomen. These jobs were unsurprisingly very poorly paid, and women in them would receive roughly between 10 and 15 shillings a week (£34 to £51 today).

Mary was employed as a Waiting Room attendant at Southampton station after the death of her husband. Evidence from the Parliamentary accidents return shows that a William Ramsdale, the Gatekeeper at Ashley Level crossing near Ringwood, was struck by a train in May 1859 while attempting to prevent a person from crossing in front of it. Given the proximity of Ringwood to Southampton, the unusual surname, and the time between the date of his death and the story I am about to recount, it is almost certain that this was Mary's husband.

The first time that I came across Mary was in a Traffic Committee minute of January 1862 (RAIL 411/231), when Richard Beach, Superintendent of the Southampton Station, wrote to the Traffic Committee regarding a complaint made against her :-

“23rd January 1862 – 1034) Mrs Ramsdale – Read letter from Mr Beach, Southampton, reporting a case against Mrs Ramsdale the Woman in the Waiting Room at Southampton.
Mrs Ramsdale to be cautioned.”

Given her low wage, the ease with which railway companies dismissed their staff, the harsh rules and regulations of railway employment, and the difficulty a widow would have getting a job elsewhere, for Mary to be risk her employment would suggest that her mental health was not good. This was confirmed later in the year by the Traffic Committee (RAIL 411/233):-

“13th November 1862 – 387) Mrs Ramsdale – Read letter from Mr Beach, as to the case of Mrs Ramsdale attendant in the Waiting Room at Southampton who has been placed in the Fareham Lunatic Asylum. Further inquiry to be made”

What Mary was suffering with is of course uncertain, however, it seems that given the circumstances of her life after her husband's death it is quite possible that it was some form of depression. This conclusion is given further weight by her circumstances stated at the committee in later weeks.

“27th November 1862 – 422) Mrs Ramsdale – Read letter from Mr Beach, Southampton, with reference to the case of Mrs Ramsdale late Waiting Room attendant there now in the Fareham Asylum stating that the ages of the two children are one 8 years and the other 5 years. Mr Beach to inquire if Mrs Ramsdale's friends will take the children and the company will give a gratuity of £10 per year for two years.”

“11th December 1862 – 446) Mrs Ramsdale – Mr Scott reported further with respect to Mrs Ramsdale late Waiting Room attendant at Southampton. The Children to be placed in the Workhouse as there are no friends who will take charge of them.”

According to the 1861 census there were in fact three children and Beach got the ages of the two he mentioned wrong. They were Mary, aged 9, Emily, aged 6 and Hannah aged 3. Clearly Mary, with the loss of her husband, receiving a low wage, with three children and few friends around her, found her conditions insurmountable.

The last part of the story compounded its highly tragic nature for me. The three girls would have gone into the Southampton Union Workhouse. In 1865 a Poor Law Inspector described it as a place where there was the "mixing together of all classes, including old, infirm and idiots, in rooms in which it was almost impossible for human beings to live." The girls would have been together in the workhouse, however it would have been a horrible, scary experience. It is highly unlikely that they saw their mother again.

I can't tell you what happened to any of them, but at this point it just proves that Victorian Society was extremely harsh, replete with sad and tragic stories, and that perhaps I should stop quibbling when minor things go wrong in my life.

Fighting with Richmond Station

Richmond Station is a bit stupid. Now don't get me wrong I love the place, but I feel that it is where all the problems of interchange stations come to the fore in a microcosm. Where at Waterloo the missing of trains, food arrangements and general the general scuffle of commuters are well spaced apart and not much of a nuisance, at Richmond the same problems are compacted within very limited area, which makes the affair somewhat of a trial.

I think I'll start with a brief history of the stations, as this sets my complaints about it in context, please use the map that I made shows when everything was built. The Richmond and West End Railway (Clapham Junction-Richmond) opened the first terminus on 27^th July 1846. When the line was extended to Windsor by the Windsor, Staines and South Western Railway this company opened a new through station in August 1848. Soon after their opening both companies were taken over by their main backers, the London and South Western Railway (L&SWR). The old terminus station was used as Richmond's goods station until 1936. On the 1^st January 1869 the L&SWR connected the West London Joint Railway's station at Addison Road (now Kensington Olympia) with Richmond, and to accommodate the extra trains the company built a new northern terminal station. This was how the station remained until 1937 until the Southern Railway rebuilt the main station buildings, decommissioned the 1848 through station and moved the through platforms to align with the terminal ones. Currently South West Trains operate the main line through services and Transport for London operate the District Line and London Overground services from the terminal station. Unless you want to get into the nitty gritty of the history of the station (and lets face it that is a wild prospect), I think that this is all that will be required for what follows.

The first thing about Richmond is that from any vantage point from within a train, the movements of all services can be observed. This creates a situation were making a connection between the terminus and through stations is like some weird psychological torture, a device formulated by past railway builders to spite the railway traveller. The journeys that I take through the station usually means either leaving the main line services and getting onto the trains that run out of the terminal station (all of which run to my usual destination of Kew Gardens). I also do the return journey. The former journey is always fine, I suppose, as missing a connection isn't an issue. There is usually another train to Kew within 5 minutes. It is the return journey that is the nightmare, something that makes me want to kneel down on the station concourse and beat my fists against the ticket machine. In this journey I will have to catch a particular main line train, at a particular time, usually at either 29 or 59 past the hour. So I travel along in the Overground or Underground train, winding its way through lovely Kew, passing the temple of commerce, Homebase, and I marvel at the skips and general decoration of the line side. The time is 6.21, the train takes 3 minutes, and I believe, foolishly, that my interchange will be a smooth transaction. The train trundles into the approach to Richmond and then STOPS! This is the terror of which I write, a nightmare of limitless proportions, of a clock that is my enemy. 6.24 passes, and no movement. 6.25, 6.26, 6.27, and then like a great instrument of torment the train home on the main line sweeps by on my left hand side. Plastered up against the window, like a 6 ft tree frog, I realise that I'll now be sitting in the Puccinos for half an hour, cursing some railway engineer for the torment he has inflicted. At least at Waterloo the train you miss doesn't go right past you....

So once the journey is completed, there is the second great hazard of Richmond station, a plague at rush hour that in itself is a trial of epic proportions...that includes a balancing element. I of course mean the rush to the barrier. I'm not certain how many of you know Richmond station's layout, however at the end of the terminal station, on the lower level, are the ticket barriers. Therefore getting off the train at rush hour is like those nature documentaries where you see ants going along a branch in either direction. For one thing waiting at the station are those people who are going to be getting on the train when you get off. Now most people observe the unwritten rule that you let people off the train before you get on. I say most people, because I have noticed a increasing propensity for these travel hawks to attempt to get on the train even when crowded, just as the doors open. I know what this is about; its about them desperately trying to get one of those 8 'single' seats on District Line trains. You know the ones, the ones by the window. Once off the train, you then face a fight to the barriers against commuters going one way, and slow moving people, walking in your direction, going the other. What's more this merry dance is all played out on the narrow platform of the terminal station, forcing most people, usually including me, to the edge. I walk along it at this point, looking down at it like some abyss (and the thought of electricity down't make me wild either). At the current time I have never seen anyone fall off the side, but I am sure it has happened. Some poor sod, casually going about his business, takes one wrong move and falls arse-over-tip onto the track below. Perhaps it was when a traveller lost his rag with someone trying to get on a train...and pushed him, I wouldn't put it past a rushed commuter. Once past this peril, like water through a nozzle, 200 or 300 people, are forced through 4 ticket barriers, that are wholly inadequate and always leave someone hard-done-by! There's is always one individual who feels that the person ahead pushed passed. Not once have experienced in this curfuffle a time when an evil look wasn't thrown, or a bad word wasn't said, and once or twice I have witnessed people come nearly coming to blows. At least at Waterloo there are plenty of ticket gates and you don't fall off the platform...

Lastly there is the positioning of the over-bridge. Now I like a good walk, and am a regular runner, however the positioning of the link between the through and terminal stations is in the most difficult places. Say the train, that I may or may not have missed, is coming into Platform 1, and I have to get to it from the terminal station, the only way is to go to the back of the station, through the pandemonium of the rush hour, and over the bridge. Again this is a case of visual psychological torture, with a physical element thrown in. I can see my connecting train all the way through, as I negotiate the people, some smell, some move slowly (not in itself a crime, but bloody irritating) and some think that the station is a good place to have a natter. “Excuse me” I ask as I move through the swathes. Once past the crowd for the barrier I run, like a whippet, through the station, all the while observing my chariot home on the opposite platform. Up the stairs I go, upwards and onwards, across the bridge, and then a sound so terrible as to make we weep, fills my ears. That, sadly, is the sound of a class 450 combined power handle being thrust forward, propelling the train onward. I slow to a walk down the steps, watching it gradually pull out on my left hand side, and consign myself to Puccinos...again.

Richmond Station is quite simply a badly laid out. Whose fault is this? Who is the master of my torments? Well I know I cursed engineers above, but in reality the blame should be placed on the development of the rail network. As any railway historian worth his salt will tell you, the British railway network was left to be formed without strong Government oversight or planning. Therefore many lines were built opportunistically, in an ad hoc fashion and in an adaptive manner. Richmond is the finest exemplar of how railway builders adapted stations over hundreds of years to their immediate requirements. So for example the over-bridge now is in exactly the same place as it was at the older station built in 1848, despite the through station moving. This places it at the back of the station and means it takes far longer to cross between the two stations than a closer footbridge would allow. Why couldn't there have been another footbridge at the other end of the platforms? Secondly when the northern station was to be built in 1863, Richmond town was built up. Thus the station had to be fitted into a smaller space than if where it had been built had been farmland. Thus the platforms on the northern station are too narrow for current demands. Better Government planning may have allowed for the station to be cited in a better place, or that more platforms could have been built. These are just a few of my concerns, however overall, what is true of Richmond is that it is still not one station, it is remains two, something it is still trying to come to terms with.

Loving Clapham Junction (even if it is a bit shit)

I actually like stations...sometimes. Clapham Junction particularly is one of my favourites, even though it is cold, there are no waiting rooms and travelling from one platform to the next is like a continual re-enactment of siege of Constantinople. Indeed so bad is the Junction that the recent "Better Rail Stations" review from November 2009 described it as the second worst interchange station in the country, scoring a paltry 39% in the satisfaction stakes (The number one offender being Manchester Victoria). That said, I'm gonna stick my neck out and say I like it for a number of reasons

Firstly, it is possibly one of the most pretentiously named stations in the country. A glance at the map will rightly place Clapham Junction in Battersea, Clapham being a mile to the east. Originally when the main line was built between London and Southampton there was no station built there. The area was really just farmland, inhabited by the poor, a few ducks and a Daxon named Colin ("...and thank you Colin") The nearest station, a mile away, was Wandsworth, which was later re-named to Clapham Common. It wouldn't be until 1863 that the current station was built by the London and South Western Railway (L&SWR), the London Brighton and South Coast Railway (LB&SCR) and the West London Extension Railway (WLER), to act as an interchange between the Windsor and Southampton Lines (for the L&SWR), the Line to Victoria (Built by the LB&SCR in 1860) and the WLER. Keen to attract a better class of clientèle, the companies colluded to call it Clapham Junction, significantly raising its status, and since then the name has never been changed. Therefore to my mind it is a bit of an upstart station...

Secondly I like that being an interchange means there is a real sense that its a place where people come together. OK they may not talk to anyone but the station staff, the guy in the AMT coffee or the toilet attendant, (who has one of the worst jobs imaginable) but there has always been to my mind a tacit understanding that everyone there is going about their business commuting to their various destinations. Having observed many people there (and it is great for people watching), there is a mutual respect between the bulk of commuters, embedded in the knowledge that they are in it together. They may all be crammed into steel tubes, but they all made a concious decision to suffer 35 minutes of that existence...together, in silence...and sometimes in awkward silence...

This said my third reason is conflict. No, it's not what you are thinking...very rarely do I see commuter on commuter action. Rather the conflict stems from a phenomenon at Clapham that I have never witnessed at any other station. At rush hour a member of the station staff continually broadcasts on the PA system things like 'please stand behind the yellow line,' 'please let people OFF the train first before getting on,' 'move down inside the carriage,' 'there's another train along in two minutes,' and so on and so forth. Now I understand why he's there, he's the Lion tamer, the microphone is his whip. It does however suggest that the great British travelling public are in conflict with the railways, that while they are all travelling together, they are also pushing against the boundaries of what the railways can offer. They want to so badly get on the train, but he has to stop them. This guy therefore is the negotiator between the warring parties and where at other stations people just deal with this conflict, at Clapham the is another factor, a bold, and ignored, member of the South West Trains staff...the commuter tamer.

Lastly I'll go with the obvious one...History. Whatever you think about the railways, Clapham has had the most trains going through it of any other station in its lifetime. Therefore when I see the modern trains rush through, I see steam, smoke and wheezing, imagining a past I will never see and never truly understand. This history is also ingrained in the fabric. Clapham, whether you are on the platform or in the overpass, hasn't had its basic fabric altered in about 100 years. Oh there are a few more platforms, there have been some changes in its lifetime, but at the end of the day most of what was built before 1900 is still there and you can see its history in the bricks, the iron and the rivets. It is a place that is filled with everything wonderful about the Victorian Railway...do it well, build it sturdy and make it functional...

Therefore while many rightly deride Clapham's failings, I do think it has got a life of its own, I love it and long may its character remain...

Waterloo isn't what it used to be

Waterloo is a dump! There I said it. We can of course applaud the cleaners, I didn't see one Metro or Evening Standard dumped floorward today. I did see plenty loitering the train. In fact in a bit of a tangent I think it is weird that Network Rail get a good cleaning job done at Waterloo, while South West Trains clearly don't give a shit about the carriage interior. Different priorities I suppose...anyway

I think that the problem with Waterloo is that now the romance has gone. If anyone has seen the 1961 John Schlesinger film 'Terminus: 24 Hours in the Life of Waterloo Station' they will know what they I mean. Since the station's building in 1848 (with the current station being the product of a re-build between 1900 and 1921) there has always been the bustle of commuters, and the film expertly portrays individuals going to their varied occupations. Yet what I think has changed is the fact that people don't interact with the station in the same way. The film expertly portrays the station as a social arena, where drinks were served, meals were sat and eaten and lovers came together and spent time talking. Now people drink on the move, the meals are over-salted and speedily scoffed, and I see most people arguing, yelling, or moving so fast that others nearly topple like dominoes. Waterloo is now one part in people's a-b-c lives and not an interactive part of it. In short the station experience, while still essentially still about travelling and meeting, has sped up.

The biggest indicator of the 'quicker' station experience are the barriers, designed to catch those devious travellers who were moving in too fast to buy a ticket. Pesky, ugly and unnecessary is my opinion. Oh the Train Operating Companies love them so much that I bet they get aroused by the mere site of yellow circles and flashing lights. I bet every time they see one open they can just hear the money jangling into their pocket. Of course this poses problems for the majority of travellers that are 'honest.' They place anyone who previously would have very willing pay for their ticket on the train or those who make simple errors with regard to ticket buying, in the category of a fare dodger. For all those who fail to have a ticket the mantra is now no ticket...no excuse - you are getting a fine. This is a problem especially prevalent on South West Trains where many stations have been equipped with barriers, most notable amongst them being Waterloo.

Are these revenue-generating, money sucking, fare evasion instalments worth it? No. As Richard Malins at 'Transport Investigations' has just commented in the latest issue of RAIL magazine, they are only profitable at larger stations because of the extra cost of staffing them at the small ones. Thus all the Train Operating Companies have done in their efforts to slow the public down, catch fare dodgers and claim the money that is (rightly or wrongly) there's, is that they have dehumanised the travel experience and set them selves up for grief with their customers. Would it be terrible if at that at the cost of a few dodged fares and turning a blind eye to the errors of the travelling public they could have fostered good customer relations? In truth at the end of the day they just pissed us off, but then again they are monopoly Train Operating Companys with no others to challenge them. Thus this goes to show, in my opinion, that they don't really care about customer relations at all, rather bleeding our pockets dry is all that matters.