Secret Barrow-in-Furness

Introduction

Secret Barrow-in-Furness is concerned with those less obvious places that hide interesting historical facts and evidence. In some sense it is history that is hidden rather than ‘secrets’, but over time these locations become forgotten and when rediscovered are important clues to the past. This book attempts to highlight these lesser-known places and discover something of their background history. Some of the evidence is scant and one wonders how much will be remembered within a couple of generations. My hope is that I can record some of these and capture those places that could very easily be swept away with new development and building. Some of the locations are already at risk and without a written and photographic record can very quickly be consigned to memory only. Local people will recognise many of the items catalogued in this book, but I hope to add some depth and dimension to the bare facts.

I will be including Barrow’s powerful Victorian legacy, which is more obvious, but it would be remiss of me not to investigate the earlier history too. This peninsula has a signature and unique response to the historical record and far from being a ‘cul-de-sac’, as proclaimed by many commentators, it has played a key part in national history, sometimes briefly, but nevertheless significantly. One example of this is the landing on Piel of Lambert Simnel the pretender; yet how many people when picnicking there in the summer realise such an event occurred.

My intention for this book is to demonstrate that Barrow is not perhaps what it first seems. It has a certain reputation as a post-industrial town, yet has one of the most successful shipbuilding companies as its main employer – recently acquiring more contracts for national defence projects. It has a worldwide reputation, whether retrospectively for the steel industry – now defunct – or currently for its nuclear submarine production. Barrow like many places has social issues and areas of deprivation, and these recently attracted attention because another author, J. K. Rowling – under her Robert Galbraith pseudonym – wrote about the town. The description is not always attractive or wholly representative, but we have to claim this as our own just as much as the leafier and more beautiful aspects, like Furness Abbey. Every effort has been made to provide a full and comprehensive record of historical facts to accompany the photographs.

I have been generous in my assessment of what constitutes Barrow-in-Furness. This is so that outlying settlements that were previously more significant than Barrow can be included. The Furness Peninsula is unique geographically and all the settlements are parts of a greater whole. It would be unacceptable to only focus on the town of Barrow.

Hopefully, this book will ameliorate the negative image Barrow sometimes suffers from and demonstrate that it has many facets and is a jewel in the Furness crown. I hope that the reader will view Barrow-in-Furness in a different light and discover the hidden layers of history over many centuries. It allows an investigation of the best that is Barrow and demonstrates that there is much to love about it, if one takes the time to look.

1.A Northern Powerhouse

Barrow-in-Furness is in many ways unique. Until 1845 it was a small village of 200 people, quiet and fairly unremarkable. Within forty years its population jumped to more than 50,000. The town had grown because of the railway and industry, which opened up the area and drew in hundreds of workers from places like Dudley, Cornwall, Scotland and Ireland. This produced a melting pot of people, overwhelming the small indigenous population and creating a strange linguistic mix emerging as a ‘Barra’ accent. The town fathers initiated building programmes that would be the envy of developers today. The small triangle in which the original village sat was from the Town Hall to St George’s Church and Dalton Road. Dalton Road, the oldest road, ran north-east towards what is now Abbey Road. This small embryonic Barrow presents the only organic road system: the remainder is planned and designed as a rectilinear grid. The wide roads and well-designed housing were a showcase for the town council, proclaiming the modernity and civic pride that was already evident. The building process was essential if the increased population was going to be housed in sanitary and comfortable circumstances. The initial influx proved a headache for James Ramsden (later the first mayor) and he remarked that if he built a thousand homes, the following week he would need a thousand more. Early housing had been makeshift, temporary, overcrowded and unsanitary.

Overcrowding was a major factor in planning the town. Disease and epidemic was a huge driver for the council and the inappropriate accommodation such as the huts on Barrow Island, hastily built to accommodate workers, was swept away in preference for tenements and rows of terraced houses. These were an immense improvement and when first built they were classed as model and modern housing. The Victorian paternalism prevailed and housing was placed as close to the workplace as possible. This was not necessarily for the convenience of the workforce, but ensured that they were never far from the workplace. Additionally, housing provided by the employer had a two-fold purpose. Decent housing closely attached to the job was an incentive for the worker, while at the same time ensuring that a proportion of the wages returned to the employer in rent. This system was a very astute method of tying the worker to the job and offsetting costs for the employer. In short, it was not dissimilar to the feudal system of tied accommodation. The flats have been refurbished and brought up to modern standards – for example the Devonshire Buildings, still administered by Holker Estates (the Cavendish family), which are now attractive modern apartments with the facilities we expect today.

Little evidence remains of the original buildings in Barrow village. The whole village was home to around 200 people. It was rural and before the advent of the Furness Railway there were piers on the channel between Barrow Island and Barrow village; from here slate and iron ore was loaded. There are some good sources to refer to from this time, including William Fisher’s Diary. He was a local farmer and left behind him a snapshot of the village at the time. The original confines of the village followed the line along Dalton Lane (Dalton Road) – one of the few early roads into the area – to Rabbit Hill (St George’s Hill) and back to the Town Hall. This small triangle became the heart of the new town. The first railway station and offices were located at Rabbit Hill and the town grew and took in the area along the water’s edge, now called The Strand. W. B. Kendall’s map of 1843 shows the size and location of the original village; this area is now absorbed into a larger townscape and is hardly identifiable as Barrowhead as it was sometimes known. One wall close to Schneider Square is probably one of the farm walls from the early settlement, another can be found near Rabbit Hill at the entrance to Cavendish Docks. The centre of the town shifted over time and this end of town is now at the edge. However, there are plans to develop this area significantly, creating new housing in a marina development, which will certainly be a new departure if it comes to fruition.

DID YOU KNOW?

Barrow Borough Council has a Satsuma bowl given to the town at the launch of the Mikasa battleship, built at Vickers Shipyard in Barrow. The bowl and an original copy of the menu from the launch (in English and Japanese) on 8 January 1900 are kept in the Town Hall in commemoration of the event. A street in Walney also bears the ship’s name.

Barrow-in-Furness, 1870.

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