One family’s pit tragedies

He was hit by falling stone while other miners working near him escaped unhurt. He was so badly wounded that it was difficult for his workmates to carry him to the surface, where he was tended by a doctor.

A sleigh was called to take him three miles over snow-covered roads to his home in Middleton, where he died the next day.

His widowed mother, who was in poor health and depended on him to support her, was overcome with shock, but she had already known great sorrow.

Apart from her husband’s death from illness, two of Henry’s uncles had been killed in mine accidents, and two other uncles had been blinded in separate mine explosions.

He had gone into the mines as a washer boy straight from school before progressing to toiling underground.

This latest death underlined how perilous the mining industry was.

Many men died before their time due to consumption and other illnesses brought on by the damp atmosphere, grubby surroundings and long hours involved in digging out lead ore.

As well as these hardships and accidents they never earned enough money to feed themselves and their families properly.

Henry was a popular member of the mechanics institute in Middleton, where he was known as a levelheaded, sober and hard-working fellow.

In the week he died, 25 loads of coal and a bale of blankets arrived from Raby Castle as a present from the Duke of Cleveland to be distributed to the poor folk of the Middleton area. It was a welcome gesture at a time of severe depression but many families needed more regular work and higher wages rather than what was described as “seasonal benevolence”. IT was a memorable day when a gas supply reached Cotherstone, long after it had been connected to many other villages.

It was turned on in 1912 after a lot of effort had gone into laying pipes to send it four miles from Barnard Castle.

The present parking charges in Barnard Castle

A good number of people travelled from Tyneside and Wearside each year for a holiday in the village, which was regarded as a health resort. It was hoped the arrival of gas for heating, lighting and cooking would help to boost this tourist trade even further.

The Barnard Castle Gas Company had been trying for the previous few months to persuade Cotherstone residents to sign up for a supply. They wanted at least 60 customers, but when the big day came they had enlisted only 40.

But they were confident that once more folk saw the benefits they would apply and the target of 60 would soon be passed.

William Dent, chairman of the parish council, had the honour of turning a valve to let the gas flow in. Then he walked to the Temperance Hall, where he lit the first lamp, saying it was the proudest moment of his life.

He said a lot of residents had asked him in recent years to do something to bring in gas, so they would all be happy now.

Unfortunately he couldn’t get a supply to his own farm as it was outside the village.

Thanks were given to the Tees Valley Water Board for allowing gas pipes to be put across the water bridge at Barnard Castle.

If this had not been done they would have had to be put on the county bridge at a much higher cost.

The pipes passed close to Lartington, so homes there were also to be offered a supply. WHEN a plan was drawn up 52 years ago to start charging fees in a car park, it was one that would be welcomed by most motorists today.

Until then, all parking had been free in Barnard Castle, so the question of paying caused a lot of debate.

The scheme involved installing a slot machine so that drivers leaving their vehicles could put in their money. The fee was to be sixpence, known at that time as a tanner, and equal to 2.5p in today’s money. It was to be the same for any duration of parking, whether it was a few minutes or all day.

And unlike today’s car park meters, the one proposed in 1962 did not issue tickets which had to be displayed on windscreens. Motorists just had to leave their cars and there was nothing to indicate whether or not they had paid a tanner. It was to depend on their honesty.

The urban council, which announced the idea, described it as a “trust the motorist” scheme. Payments were to be voluntary and there was no penalty for those who failed to part with sixpence.

It was totally different to the town’s present main car park, where it costs 80p for up to an hour, moving up for £5 for more than four hours.

Penalties for infringements can be £50 or £70. It results in many thousands of pounds going into Durham County Council’s coffers each year.

Going back 52 years, the mention of fees and penalties like these would have seemed horrendous.

Even the sixpenny proposal ran into opposition.

It was pointed out that the chamber of trade had been advertising to attract more visitors, with a promise that free parking was available.

Councillors were also reminded that if 40 motorists parked there for a day and all of them paid their tanners, the takings would amount to only £1.

Critics added that some folk were sure to avoid paying, so the income would be even less.

Would it be worth the expense of buying and installing the machine and then sending someone to empty it reguarly?

In the end the system was abandoned even before it started. It was many years before Teesdale Council introduced realistic parking charges and penalties which came into force despite protests about the adverse impact they would have on shops. RESIDENTS had to be careful not to speak too harshly of other folk in the Middleton area back in the 1600s.

A byelaw stated that any person who called someone else a thief, slave, rogue or rascal, without being able to prove it, was liable to be fined a third of £1 for every wrong word.

Another rule was that anyone who trespassed into fields to steal peas could be fined a sixth of £1.

The penalties could be inflicted by the Manor Court made up of 13 members, five from Middleton and four each from Newbiggin and Forest. Most manors appointed only men as constables, but this one appointed three women: Mary Allason in 1680.

John Johnson’s widow in 1690 and Grace Dent in 1733.

The boundaries of the manor were ridden in 1737 by 102 people, of whom all but 23 were able to write – a high number in that era.

In 1778, the court stated that the ancient weight of a roll of butter offered for sale in Middleton was not less than 22 ounces.

Any butter found to be under this was to be seized and sold. Half the money was to go to the butter weighers and the other half to the most needy and deserving local people.

Workers on the dressing floor at Coldberry mine, where young Henry Robinson lost his life

A byelaw in 1823 stated that no manure, stone, rubbish or other material was to be left in any street for more then seven days, and no cart was to stand in any street at night; nor could pigs be left at large. And no horse could be turned out to water unless led or ridden.

The penalty was a shilling in each case.