The invention that sank without trace

Steve Parsley examines the Richmond inventor's claims to an escape device for submariners, a cure for skin cancer and an easy-to-open cigarette packet

TODAY, Richmond's Billy Banks Wood is still popular among tourists seeking a vantage point from which to view the North Yorkshire market town's famous castle.

Many an artist has painted the view of the Norman ruin, perched on cliffs overlooking the River Swale as it rushes east into the Vale of York.

However, anyone strolling the footpaths along the river bank in 1925 may have doubted their grip on reality. A man, wearing what must have looked like a set of bagpipes, walked into the water until he was completely submerged - only to resurface 50 minutes later completely unscathed.

Until then, no one had seen a device which allowed you to breathe underwater; it was still the stuff of fantasy and fairy tale. But, to 50-year-old Robert Hey, it was a real possibility - and now he knew the apparatus he had dreamed up worked.

This wasn't a leisure device: Hey saw it as an end to the submariner's nightmare of being trapped on the seabed in a stricken vessel no longer able to rise to the surface. Rather than slowly suffocating or drowning, sailors could now don Hey's invention, giving them ample air to escape.

And, after his own trials in the Swale, the British Admiralty was Hey's first port of call.

Expecting full credit from a grateful Royal Navy which now could at least offer its submariners a method of escape, Hey returned home to Richmond. But, when weeks and then months passed with no word, he decided to give others the opportunity to develop his idea and approached the Americans, French, Germans, Italians and Japanese.

Only the Americans took the project further, testing the apparatus to confirm it worked, but there were no contracts or commissions and, despite its potential, Hey's contraption seemed to have sunk without trace.

But, four years later, an article appeared in the national press, announcing the British Admiralty was carrying out tests in Scotland on equipment which sounded suspiciously familiar. When he checked, Hey was told the trials were nothing to do with subs.

But, later, the Royal Navy's scientific research department announced it had indeed developed an escape apparatus for submarines, crediting one of its own boffins with the idea. Not only was the device named after him, but Robert Davies was awarded £25,000 when he patented the equipment, an estimated £15,000-a-year in royalties and was given a knighthood.

Incensed by the apparent injustice, Hey wasn't going the let the matter rest. Without a fortune to his name and a patent to back his claim, he was powerless to take his case to court. Instead, Hey built his own caravan and towed it around the region, calling public meetings where he would tell his story to anyone who would listen. He also distributed leaflets outlining his case which concluded with an appeal for financial assistance which would allow him to take his case further.

"I have definite proof that the Lock (sic) Long test was in connexion (sic) with the escape of men from submerged submarines. And, further, that the apparatus used was practically the same as that submitted by me in 1925," he wrote.

"My claim is a genuine one but, being a poor man, I cannot afford to take my case to court for it would probably be a long and costly one. I am convinced that I will receive acknowledgement and some monetary reward if I can fight my case."

But, sadly, he never got the chance. Hey couldn't find backers prepared to come up with the money to cover the costs and he was forced to abandon any hope of formal recognition for his work.

And, perhaps because of his experience, subsequent innovations also met with indifference.

Hey tried unsuccessfully to interest the shipping industry in devices capable of lifting wrecks from the seabed and for locating stricken submarines. He also claimed to have invented a cream which had cured cases of skin cancer in horses - but would tell no one of the ingredients after he was given short shrift by a Richmond GP, who told him to "stick to his business and let her stick to hers".

Perhaps his only acknowledged success was with cigarette firm WD&HO Wills, who adapted their packaging to incorporate one of his ideas. Hey suggestd that it would be easier to get cigarettes out of the packet if a thumbnail-sized strip was ripped from the top. Lucky Strikes, popular with American troops in the Second World War, are perhaps the most famous brand to have adopted the idea but others still use it today.

Disillusioned, Hey devoted his life to his family; he and wife Mary had ten children of their own and also developed close relationships with the travelling fair families, joining them at the Whit Fair in Richmond until the year before his death in 1954.

Hey also became known as something of an expert on native birds and reared many a fallen fledgling in aviaries behind the family home on The Green in Richmond - at least until the local council intervened and ordered all the birds be released.

Granddaughter Sylvia Gates is one of the few surviving members of the family and lives in New Zealand. She will be returning to Richmond this summer to rekindle some memories and visit the Richmondshire Museum, which plans to host a special exhibition telling the story of Robert Hey when it reopens at Easter.

His apparatus for submariners will be among the exhibits, as well as the documents and posters which tell the story of his battle with the Admiralty.

"We were aware of the history behind the equipment but not of some of the stories which have come up in conversation with Mrs Gates since she contacted us in December," said museum spokesman Mike Wood. "It's always exciting when we find out something new about Richmond and heartening for the volunteers who help us; we're certainly hoping it will encourage more people to visit."

* Local historian Angus Goodfellow will be giving a lecture on Hey and his inventions at Richmond Town Hall on Friday. The talk begins at 7.30pm. Admission is £2.