Tea and arsenic

That was a question widely asked after the poison was deposited among the tea leaves at their home in West Auckland on a Sunday in June 1921.

Their live-in housemaid, Ellen Bowe, 19, happened to be the first person affected in the incident. She went to visit her mother at Wolsingham that day and returned about 10pm.

Before going to bed, she made herself a cup of tea, taking a spoonful as usual from a caddy which was kept in a sitting room. But she became violently ill shortly afterwards and suffered badly all through the night. It left her so poorly that she was off work for about seven months.

Mr and Mrs Boddy had both been out that evening as well.

Next morning at breakfast they each had a cup of tea, using the same caddy, and both became extremely sick within a few minutes. He was off work for a while and she was detained in a nursing home for a time. Tests revealed that they and the maid had all suffered arsenic poisoning.

Tea from the caddy was analysed in a laboratory and was shown to contain a high percentage of arsenic.

The story gained widespread attention, with local folk and newspaper articles recalling that the notorious poisoner Mary Ann Cotton, who lived in West Auckland for some years, had murdered a number of people with arsenic.

She was hanged at Durham Prison in 1873. Years later was there now another would-be killer in the locality?

The incident led to a court case, but not the sort anyone expected.

Ellen Bowe sued Thomas Boddy for compensation, because she had lost wages while off work, and it resulted in a lengthy hearing at Bishop Auckland County Court.

It was agreed by both sides that an intruder must have got into the house when the three were out and put the poison into the caddy to cause harm.

Boddy stated that he used to take a flask of tea with him when working on a farm and leave it in a shed before drinking it. He remembered feeling ill four times after doing so and now suspected there might have been arsenic in it. He told the court he was sure someone was trying to kill him.

Police had been on the case but had not caught anyone.

Judge Moore remarked that he had sympathy with Boddy.

But, as the law stood, he was responsible for what Miss Bowe had to eat and drink in his house — so even though he was not to blame for putting arsenic in the caddy. he would have to pay her compensation for time she was off work. She was awarded 14 shillings a week for the first four months then ten shillings a week for the next three months, amounting to over £18.

From the date of the court hearing, the judge ruled that as she now seemed much better she should receive a nominal sum — one penny a week.

No doubt the tea caddy was always carefully guarded in the Boddy household after that.

Front Street, West Auckland, where she lived

HARD-UP elderly women who lived in Barnard Castle workhouse in the 1880s were given a regular evening treat — a pinch of snuff.

They looked forward to their small ration of the powdered tobacco before going to bed. They could get noisy and agitated if the supply had run out. They acted like a regular smoker might when unable to find a cigarette, because they probably became addicted.

John Dalkin, the workhouse master, always tried to ensure he had enough to go round.

But a member of the Board of Guardians, who oversaw the house, noticed that the snuff was costing five shillings a week (25p in modern coinage). He thought it too extravagant and asked if it was absolutely necessary to buy it. “Yes, because we can’t keep them quiet without it,”

replied the master.

The guardian agreed that if it secured peace and quiet it must be money well spent.

But then there was a query over the cost of meat. A guardian pointed out that men were being served six ounces of it twice a week, whereas in some other workhouses they got only four ounces. He suggested the men should sometimes be served suet pudding or something else less costly than meat.

Others agreed that some residents were staying longer than needs be because they were treated so well. They heard of one man who left West Auckland workhouse and settled happily in the Barnard Castle one because it was more comfortable and had better meals.

Another issue was over women who knocked on the door and asked to be admitted after falling out with their husbands. Sometimes, they said they were frightened to go home.

But the guardians stated that their purpose was to provide shelter for poor folk, not to act as a haven in domestic disputes. It was agreed that the women involved should be told to go home to their husbands.

The workhouse was built at the top of Galgate in 1838 at a cost of £2,500. Sickness and fever wards were added in 1875 at a cost of £3,000, enabling it to take in a total of 227 men, women and children.

Often there were about 150 staying there, but the number went up when conditions were bad.

WITTON Towers, the mansion that was home to Willam Randolph Innes Hopkins in the 1880s, as mentioned here last week, was built as a peel tower in a prime defensive position prior to the civil war in the 17th Century.

It was originally called Witton Hall, but the name was changed by Henry Stobbart, a magistrate who lived there from 1855 to 1880. Perhaps he felt Towers was a more fitting name for the impressive structure, one of the oldest in Witton- le-Wear. Another house called Witton Hall was built in the village in the late 1880s, and this led to some confusion.

Stobbart was a magistrate, as was Hopkins, who took up residence there after him, following a move from Grey Towers, an equally impressive mansion he had built for his family on Teesside in 1860.

He was a Middlesbrough ironmaster whose firm built the Tay Bridge. After the bridge disaster in 1879 he was said to be in financial difficulty, but still appeared more wealthy than most people.

He had lived in Witton-le- Wear for just over two years before he made a strong criticism of the Reverend James Francis Hodgson, at a vestry meeting.

The Grey Towers property was bought by Sir Arthur Dorman and later became Poole sanitorium for TB patients. It is now divided into apartments.

The old photograph here of Witton Towers, which is also now split into apartments, was kindly provided by Anne Yuill.

W EEKLY cookery classes were popular in dale schools during the First World War.

Pupils were shown how to prepare a meal and could then take it home for their family.

Steak and kidney pudding was the one everyone liked best, so it was done regularly.

But in 1918, there was a problem in Bishop Auckland when councillors heard how much was being spent on beef.

Witton Towers, an imposing home with an outspoken former owner

The price per pound had gone up to a shilling and fourpence (7p in today’s money). They suggested teachers should switch to meat-free meals.

Surely it was wrong to use beef at this ridiculously high price? Could they not suspend steak and kidney pudding until the war was over?

But it was pointed out that pupils paid for meals they took home, and ingredients used were approved by the county and government.

After that, there were occasional lessons without meat, but most weeks good old beef was still on the menu despite the high price. Families made it clear they were not keen on dinners that contained no meat.