The town of Barry, situated on the south Wales
coast is currently the largest town in Wales. It is the home of the popular tv
show Gavin and Stacy and was once one of the busiest sea ports in the world
with the year 1913 topping the exportation of coal per ton than any other port
in the world. To appreciate Victorian Barry, we have to put it into context.
Queen Victoria is still on the throne and will soon celebrate her Diamond Jubilee
marking 6o years as our longest reigning monarch; the British Empire is at its
apotheosis, the Boar War will come and go and ‘Jack the Ripper’ will ply his
bloody trade on the gas lit streets of Whitechapel, horrifying the nation. Britain
is booming; the Industrial Revolution has made Britain the most powerful and
successful nation on the planet. This industry as well as our ships were
powered by coal, which south Wales had in abundance. The ambition of rich and
powerful men created the docks and it is against this backdrop which the town
of Barry was born.
Prior to the commercial interests of David Davies, the area where the Victorian town is situated was little more than a collection of small villages and pastoral fields. Prior to the arrival of the new industry, time had almost stood still for the villages of Barry and Cadoxton where life had not changed much for generations. Both relied on agriculture for a living, although Barry did have a small port. Tourism had been steadily on the increase since the early nineteenth century bringing with it a small number of artisans and traveling gentlemen keen to explore Wales, but at this point, before the notion of a holiday for working class people was conceived, tourism was by and large the preserve of the wealthy. With Barry Island coming to be regarded as something of a get-away location, it is sobering to think that not long before this it was the haunt of smugglers – hard men who thought little of using violence to further their interests and Barry Island being somewhere where customs men, let alone tourists once feared to tread.
Steam and sail. The docks at Barry caught the end of an era; the days of large wind - powered sailing ships were coming to an end; these being replaced with coal powered ships as juxtaposed in this old photograph from Barry Docks at the turn of the last century (Photo – Peoples Collection Wales).
The trickle of visitors to Barry soon turned
into a tide as the founding of the docks (opened 1889) brought with it an army
of laborers and permanent workers required to operate the industrial
powerhouse. Thus, the modern town of
Barry was forged during the late Victorian era and powered the industrialized
world through the exportation of coal. It’s classical and historical inspired
architecture was smart and attractive with Dock View Road and Thompson Street
being almost show pieces of high Victorian style featuring elegant buildings
such as Lloyds Bank on Thompson Street (destroyed during the 1970s) and the
magnificent Tudor inspired Culleys Hotel with the Chain Locker bar on Dock View
Road (also destroyed in the 1970s) to name but a couple; these buildings were
constructed with the style of self – confidence reflecting the success of a
nation which had in essence created the modern world through trade and
technology – Barry’s architecture was meant to be a reflection of this as well
as a nod to our past.
Barry had to grow up quickly as it was in
essence a boom town; it attracted Labour primarily from the south west region
of Britain and it attracted ships and sailors from all over the industrialized world
- these were welcomed in its numerous pubs and hotels. The author’s own
relations on both sides felt the pull of industry and re-located from the West
Country to Barry during the late nineteenth century with one relation reputedly
walking the whole way. West Country origins are common with a lot of Barry people
who have been here since the beginning.
This mass influx of people naturally brought
with it the labour needed to run a busy dock but it also brought with it social
problems, and like any urban area with a large population, the docks, as well
as bringing prosperity for many also brought crime and public disorder, some of
which will be laid bare. Many are the accounts of violence, petty crime and drunkenness
from the smoggy Victorian dock town which no doubt scandalized its more genteel
residents. Times have changed since the Victorian period; society certainly has
undergone radical change with many social conventions now but footnotes of
history but crime in all its basic forms essentially remains unchanged. The
human propensity for deviant behavior is well documented within the annals of
the formative years of the town of Barry.
1889 – the inaugural year of Barry Docks. Even
on this auspicious day of 26th July, which saw an ‘opening
demonstration at Barry Dock’, not everyone of the large group of people who
had gathered in a field near to the docks to attend this momentous occasion was
here for the spectacle, some had more material prospects on their mind. Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas, who lived somewhere on Cadoxton
Common had her purse relieved from her which contained 4 shillings, 7 and a
half pence by Swansea miscreant Henry Bird. Described as a member of the ‘light
fingered fraternity’, Bird was not as artful as he imagined having been
observed in the act by eagle eyed Cardiff residents Mrs Mary Flora Dustin and Mrs.
Jane Morgan, both of the same address, 1 Fredericca Street (now demolished), who
confronted Bird. Bird actually handed
the purse and his contents back to Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas but, fearing for his
safety from a vengeful mob he fled the scene.
The opening of Barry Docks in 1889. It was
somewhere close to this location and on that very day where Mrs. Elizabeth
Thomas was robbed of her purse (Photo – Peoples Collection Wales).
Light footed police constable PC Steven Davies
(269) became involved and gave chaise. Bird was apprehended by the long arm of
the law and arrested. Bird claimed he was so drunk he ‘did not know
what he was about’ but the magistrate at Penarth saw matters differently
and Bird received what was regarded at the time as the lenient sentence of 2
months of prison with hard labour. Given the Victorian proclivity for hard
punishment for petty offenses, perhaps Henry Bird did get off lightly? This clemency
was in part due to Bird not being a young man and with him apparently having a
sick child at home; the magistrate took these factors into consideration.
It was on the night of the 3rd of August 1901 that three young local lads went out in search of a bit of (mis) adventure. The three lads, Henry King (8), Joseph Bailey (10) and Charles King (14) thought they would break into a stall at Whitmore Bay, Barry Island; the stall was stocked full of consumable goods intended for the tourist trade which was by now well-established. The lads had a fine haul of cake and toys but, as is still the case today criminality and intelligence are often mutually exclusive and the lads were quickly apprehended by the police and earned themselves a night in the cells. The oldest boy, Charles king was given a choice – he could pay 10 shillings (half a sovereign), an impossible sum for a young boy or spend seven days in prison; for the other lads the punishment was more corporeal. Both Joseph Bailey and Henry King were sentenced to be lashed with 6 hard strokes of a birch-rod. This may seem cruel to us now but corporal punishment for children was an accepted norm during this period.
Given the number of hostelries in Barry and the
Victorian proclivity for drink it will come as no surprise that the records are
replete with examples of drunken behavior, most of which would be familiar to
us now. For example; in 1890 Emily Flowers was asked to leave the premises of
the Royal Hotel in Cadoxton for being too intoxicated. This is a fine old building
recently converted into flats (the writer’s grandfather, Oliver Earnest
Lambert, who lived nearby in Davies Street and who fought during WW2 [corporal
- Royal Horse Artillery and Royal Artillery] was a regular here). Emily was
asked to leave but refused and was subsequently arrested and ultimately fined 2
shillings 6 pence.
What shall we do with the drunken sailor, early
in the morning? Well, sailor George Searle on the morning of the 17th
August 1898 was very drunk and making a nuisance of himself in the vicinity of
Barry Dock Railway Station. His aggressive behavior attracted the attention of
Dock Constable Light (Dock Constable Charles Light crops – up frequently in the
records during the Victorian era) who asked Searle to leave the area. Minutes
later Searle followed Light and verbally abused him ‘and made use of the
most foul language’. This was not enough for Searle who then launched into
a vicious and unprovoked attack against the Constable with Searle described as
‘kicking and biting him and behaving like a madman’. A number of other
police officers arrived on the scene to assist Light and Searle was detained.
During his appearance before the Barry Dock Police Court, Searle blame his
behavior on some bad brandy he consumed on a French vessel and this ‘quite
upset him’. Subsequently it was revealed that Searle was no stranger to
violence as he had some 15 previous convictions for various offences. He was
rewarded with one month’s hard labour – a common punishment for such offences
during the Victorian period. Had Searle committed this offense before 1868 it
is very likely he would have been transported to the penal colony of Australia
but right at the end of the Victorian period this practice had ceased.
It was not just the common seamen who were
guilty of such behavior; one example involved a ship’s captain. In 1894 Dock
Constable Light was assaulted by ship’s captain Alexander Beird who had been
involved in some hard drinking on a Friday night. His fate is not recorded but
it can only be hoped he was sober when taking his ship out into the high seas.
Not all drunks were violent, some were just
hapless. In June of 1903 sailor Thomas Curran was wandering about the docks
intoxicated when he fell into a dock somewhere close to the entrance. He was
fortunate to have been spotted and he was removed by the dock authorities.
Although he was detained by the police, this was more for his wellbeing and he
was released when sober.
Some drunks were almost pitiful; in December of
1892 Emma Jones, described as being ‘a forlorn looking old lady’ was
found insensible on Holton Road – the lady was so drunk she could not speak or
say her name. Once sober and after apologizing she was essentially given a slap
on the wrist.
A violent assault took place at 5 Kenilwood
Road, Cadoxton in 1890. Elizabeth Taylor who was landlady of the property was
assaulted by her tenants, namely George Fledgy, Frederick Fledgy and Elizabeth
Fledgy. The assault, the cause of which was not disclosed must have been severe
as Elizabeth Taylor claimed the event left her in a pitiful state and was
beaten ‘till blood came out of her eyes, ears, nose and mouth and all’. When
Mrs.[JL1] Taylor appeared at court she was sporting
a pair of black eyes. The male Fledgys were fined 10 shillings (half a
sovereign) and costs.
An unprovoked assault on a farm worker at Cadoxton in June 1898 resulted in what seemed to be the almost customary sentence of 2 months of hard labour which was doled out to the assailants for the crime of common assault. Lewis Watters, a farm labourer who on a Saturday night went out for a shave and a couple of pints of beer was walking home about 11pm in Cadoxton when, near somewhere described as ‘the elm tree’ met his assailants, ‘two disreputable - fellows named Issac Giles and Richard Hill’ who were no doubt loitering with intent. They greeted Lewis Watters saying ‘good night; where are you going?’ Watters replied ‘home’ when he was set upon with sickening violence. There were four men in all with two not being named, presumably they were not apprehended. The two named men where drinking in a local pub called the Three Bells which they were ejected from around the same time they carried out their assault; they were clearly looking for trouble. A local lad and his mother came out from their cottage to see what the commotion was about but they too were both assaulted by the miscreants who attempted to gain access to their property. Both men involved in the assault were arrested the following day at 3 Spring Street, Cadoxton – they both denied any wrong doing but were found to be guilty with the witness testimony considered to be sufficient to charge the men.
Cadoxton Village late nineteenth/early
twentieth century. The Three Bells pub, which has its name emblazoned on the
roof lies adjacent to the medieval church of St Cadoc’s. It was an old pub,
most likely dating back to at least the eighteenth century. It was a pub until
very recently when it closed permanently in 2009 and is now a private residence
(Photo – Peoples Collection Wales).
Sailors it seemed could also be very violent
men. In July of 1893 sailor Frederick Leyshon was
asked by Dock – constable Mayled to leave a ship he had boarded called the
Cadubeus – it is unclear why but it was intimated Leyshon had no business being
there. Both men encountered each other sometime later when the Dock-constable
asked Leyshon to which ship he belonged. It was then that Leyshon launched into
a vicious attack upon Mayled. Frederick Leyshon was fined £1 or seven days in
prison. The records are full with many such examples of violence.
The Victorians could be very moral people, despite not always living up to these lofty ideals they did endeavor to instill them. Prostitution was an interest to reform – minded Victorians who regarded it with something of a fascination; they formed the notion that these ‘ladies of the night’ could be redeemed and reformed. The Pre – Raphaelite painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti who, taking a break from the usual Pre-Raphaelite subjects of medieval and Renascence romanticism undertook his only painting which had a moral significance: Found depicts a young lady who, working as a prostitute, presumably for some time being found by a relation and hence rescued from a wretched existence. The Victorian prime minister Benjamin Disraeli was also greatly concerned with the plight of prostitutes. Of course, Barry being a bustling Victorian port town had its share of prostitutes who serviced the needs of the sailors. Frequently referred to as a ‘social evil’, prostitution pops– up often in the local records.
No stranger to the authorities, Elizabeth Hall,
described as a ‘notorious prostitute and a desperately bad character’
was sent to prison for three weeks for prostitution and public drunkenness in
the vicinity of Thompson Street. Fanny Duncan was a prostitute who seemed to
ply her trade on Holton Road; in 1901 she was apprehended by a P.C. David Lewis
who no doubt had her under watch. The punishment seems harsh – Fanny was
sentenced to 21 days hard Labour. Despite Fanny operating on Holton Road,
Thompson Street was more traditionally associated with prostitution, perhaps
the market was over saturated there?
No doubt the more moral of the Victorian public
were scandalized at the activities of prostitutes in the town of Barry. In 1899
Amy Evans, who was ‘described as a prostitute’ was apprehended in the
public toilets at Barry Dock Train Station with a sailor by the name of George
Payne. Amy assaulted the police officer who took her to the station as well as attempting
to stab him with a hat pin. Amy escaped the charge of indecency but was convicted
of assault and given two weeks in prison. Public toilets were not the only
place the Barry prostitutes would ply their trade; it seemed that almost
anywhere would do. In 1902 Magaret Martell was sent to prison for fourteen days
for conducting her business in a lane behind Evans Street. This incident makes
more sense when we learn that in 1896 Elizabeth Gardiner was charged with
keeping a brothel in Evans Street. Upon investigation by the police a
prostitute by the name of Annie Mitchell was found hiding in a coal cupboard.
The would-be madam was fined the sum of three pounds and costs. It seems likely
that the Evans Street brothel was still in operation at the end of the
Victorian era.
The Victorian Barry Docks of tall masted
sailing ships, endless coal wagons trudging their way clumsily down from the
valleys, protesting all the way, horse and carts trotting through cobbled
streets and bawdy pubs full of drunken sailors came to an end. Time moves
forward; sepia and black and white images of the past turned to colour, the dull
haze of gas lit lamps were replaced by electric and the ghosts of Victorian
Barry began to recede to the shadows and peripheries of history, yet we see
them still and they live on.
Mark and Jonathan Lambert are archaeology graduates of Cardiff University and are published authors. They have been writing about and researching local history for the past 20 years and have a wealth of knowledge. All articles are original compositions - we hope you enjoy our content. Enquiries: hiddenglamorgan@outlook.com-
The right of Jonathan and Mark Lambert to be identified as Authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this article may be reprinted, reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic means, including social media, or mechanical, or by any other means including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the authors.
