Iorwerth Price Jones, Trelewis…The Quiet Referee – part 1

It is hard to imagine in these days when Welshmen are not allowed to referee in the English leagues, that we once had an elite class referee actually living in the High Street, Trelewis.

Iorwerth Price Jones (Iory) was born in number 1 Hylton Terrace Bedlinog on the 18th December, 1927. He grew up in the village and attended the infants’ school at Commercial Street and then onto the Bedlinog Boys School at Oaklands Terrace (Where the new surgery has been built) the girls’ school was at the end of Hylton Terrace in those days…

When he was 13 years of age he played for the Bedlinog Boys school team, who played wearing distinctive Black and White squares on their shirts. One day they had arranged a match against Trelewis down on the Trelewis Welfare fields, a good local derby. The match was interrupted by men shouting that a young lad had wandered too close to the nearby quarry and had fallen in; people rushed to help as the game was abandoned, but the youngster lost his life in the deep waters of the quarry… a dangerous place that had a buried crane neck rising above the surface and many parents feared their children playing there. In later years the quarry was filled in with waste from the collieries.

Eddie Jones, Iory’s father was a collier on the coal face at Taff Merthyr colliery and young Iory was soon to follow in his fathers footsteps.

At 14 years of age, Iory got a job at the nearby Taff Merthyr Colliery, he spent two years underground, mainly on the tension end that pushed the coal towards the waiting trams, and it was called District 15. In those days before cap lamps, he was expected to collect a lamp weighing 14lbs and carry that all the way into his place of work, and of course back out again at the end of a long shift. Dai Hughes was the manager then, he lived in the big house on Captains Hill called Brynffynon. At 16 years old Iory had to work on top pit due to suffering with dermatitis and started work with the Blacksmiths. He used to catch one of the Bert Davies buses, with wooden seats, that picked up at Bolwells shop near his home.

Taff Merthyr Colliery

Iory also attended the Treforest mining school where he studied Welding fabrication and was fully qualified upon leaving. Iory left the collieries after 9 years and worked for a number of years in Cardiff at a government training centre. He then got a teaching job at Cross Keys College, where he worked for over 25 years, during which time he became a top class football referee. He was fortunate enough to be allowed to take time off on occasions when he had to be away refereeing.

Iorwerth was a very good young footballer who got picked for the Nelson Welsh league team, he then got transferred to Treharris and finally played in the Southern league for the very powerful Merthyr Tydfil team. Unfortunately a problem with his left knee forced him to see the local doctor in Trelewis, Dr De Souza, who strangely enough held his surgery in the front room of number 12 High Street, a house that Iory would later make a home for him his wife Margaret and their daughter. Dr De Souza diagnosed a cartilage problem and performed an operation at St Tydfil’s Hospital in Merthyr to remove it, this spelt the end of Iory’s playing days, he was determined to still keep involved in football though and started refereeing local league games.

Iorwerth began serious refereeing in the Pontypridd and District league, where assessors would mark your performance; he was getting excellent marks and soon went from Grade C to a grade B. He became a Welsh league referee and move up to a grade A, eventually his talent earned him a place as a football league linesman…a great honour.

After a few years, an even greater honour came his way, when he became one of the five Welsh referees on the football league list, that was allowed by UEFA and FIFA…The other four at that time were, Leo Callaghan, Haydn Davies, Clive Thomas and Jack Gow. Unlike these days, he was expected to officiate at all levels, one week he could be at St James Park, Exeter, and the next at Old Trafford. Iory was 38 years of age, and was being paid £13 a match plus expenses, a far cry from Today’s referees’ wages.

The day finally arrived for Iory’s first match in charge; it was Portsmouth v Birmingham City at Fratton Park, August 24th 1966, what a match it was, a nine goal thriller with the away team going away with the two points after an amazing 5-4 victory. During the season he officiated at plenty of games including matches at Tottenham, Fulham, Wolves and Chelsea, before the season was concluded he was elected to the F.I.F.A panel of referees after just one season as a football league referee as well as being put on the UEFA list to referee matches in their competitions.

To be continued….

Many thanks to Paul Corkrey for allowing me to use this article. To view the original please go to https://www.treharrisdistrict.co.uk/treharris-areas/trelewis/history/

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 2

by Barrie Jones

Chapter II covers Henry’s account of his first encounter with the law and his imprisonment in October 1892, aged sixteen years. In fact, Henry’s life of crime had commenced from the age of thirteen years, and this was not his first experience of Swansea Gaol. Perhaps his long list of crimes had confused him or that this account made a better storyline. His old schoolmate Dai was David Davies, who would feature in more serious criminal escapades with Henry in the future.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 5th February 1910, page 9.

Chapter II

After the accident to my head at the Cwm Pit Colliery, for five months I was idle and dependent upon on the support of my father, who was fast approaching old age. There was no such thing as a Miners’ Federation at that time, but only an accident fund, and the widow of a man killed underground only received ten shillings per week, and not even then unless the collier contributed towards the fund. Of course, that had nothing at all to do with me, as I was employed by the miners and not by the company, and it was the miners’ duty to pay the accident fund for me, and to deduct it from my wages. I was too young to know this at the time, otherwise I could have claimed compensation; consequently, I received absolutely nothing.

I was not going to see my father working himself to death to support me any longer, so one day, still suffering from the effects of my injuries, I set out to seek employment. I wandered towards the South Pit Colliery, near Troedyrhiw, but I had not gone very far before I met an old schoolmate of mine, Dai ____. Now Dai was a bold fellow. Although a good-hearted chap, he cared not for anyone. He hailed me with “ullo Harry, where are you off to?” “I am going to look for a start at the South Pit,” says I. “Well, come along Harry,” say he, “I happen to be out of work too: let us try together for a place on the coal.” So we reached the pit just as the manager was coming up, and we applied for a job, but no luck, for the place was full up.

Then Dai turned to me, saying, “What do you say, Harry, in doing a bit of crook?” (for Dai ____ had already made a great rent in his character). “Are you game?” says he, “game enough,” says I. So in returning towards Merthyr, we wandered towards the Field Pit Colliery, and once again we applied there for work, but the same as usual, it was full up. Then Dai says, “Let us go around to have a warm by the boilers,” for it was rather cold at the time. On going round, we passed the back of the miners’ lamp-room, when we happened to notice that a part of the zinc roof had been torn away and some of the lamps upon the shelves were visible. We put our hands in and made the shelves lighter by half-a-dozen, and with the aid of a file we managed to rub out the letters “P C” (which meant Plymouth Company), and which came off the oil pots in filings of brass. We then took them to several pawnbrokers, where we pledged them at half-a-crown and three and sixpence apiece. After enjoying ourselves with the reapings we returned to the lamp-room for some more; but just as Dai was drawing forth another lamp, out sprang a policeman and pounced upon him. Well, you know the rest. To make it brief, we were both brought before the “beaks,” and finally escorted to Swansea Gaol for one month.

On our arrival at the prison, after answering several questions to the chief turnkey, we were taken below to a place called the reception room, where a sturdy warder eyed me from head to foot, remarking, “You are starting rather young nipper.” Turning to Dai, he said, “You have brought a fresh mate with you this time, Dai. “We are quite innocent,” replied Dai, “Yes, you look innocent,” replied the turnkey, “if the kid doesn’t” (what would he say if he saw the kid now?). Then he proceeded to weigh me and take my measurement, and after fitting me, or trying to fit me with a dirty suit of khaki large enough for a man, he locked me in a cell. After making an examination of my surroundings, I broke down and cried, until I made the place quite damp with my tears. My thoughts were of “Home, Sweet Home.”

I was not long engaged in pumping water from my system before the turnkey came and unlocked the cell door, holding in his hand half a tin of skilly, which he called porridge, and eight-ounce dark brown toke (loaf). “Here you are,” says he, “let your tears drop into this, and you will fill the tin.” “I cannot eat it sir,” says I. “Oh, you will eat it,” says he, “before you have done your month,” and he was right too, for before I had been in goal a week, I was looking for more to eat. I happened to leave one of my small loaves on my self one day, when I was on the treadmill, but when I came in it had gone. When the turnkey brought me three pounds of oakum to pick, I asked him where my bread had gone to. Throwing down the oakum, he replied, “I suppose one of the birds has picked it.” Getting a bit bolder, and my tears being a thing of the past, I turned sharply upon him, and said, “The birds have picked it, have they? Then the birds can pick this oakum,” and I kicked it flying out of the cell. He then brought me before the Asinorum (governor), and the functionary awarded me three days bread and water. Thus the turnkey was beginning to know me, and he cooled down wonderfully well. The day of my discharge came round, and I was let out into the wide world again to fight another battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil.

To be continued…..

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

Mr William Davies was the forge and mill manager at Cyfarthfa, and Mr John Jones, the furnace manager at Ynysfach. Mr Wiltshire was the vet or farrier (for the Veterinary College had not so many members then), but others also occur to me in other spheres of labour.

John Pritchard was the weigher on the top of the yard (approaching Gellideg). He was the father of the Dr Pritchard many of your readers may recall, living in High Street, opposite Glebeland Street. There was also a weigher at Ynysfach yard some few years later whose name I wish to mention; it was John Morgan, and his contributions to the mathematical part of the Gentleman’s Magazine of that time is ample evidence of his knowledge.

Possibly some of the descendents of those mentioned yet exist, and may read this – some can be recalled. Mr Davies, the mill manager had two daughters, one became Mrs John James (draper). Mr James married a Miss Kirkhouse, Llwyncelyn, an elder sister (half sister really) of the Rev Howell Kirkhouse. I do not think they had a family; nor can I recall either of Mr Jones’ brothers – William, who went to North Wales; or Charles, who went to London – having any; perhaps he (Charles) made up for it by becoming the secretary of the Welsh Girls’ School at Ashford.

William Crawshay II by an unknown artist. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

At the present time, when ‘combines’ for trade purposes are rife, and ever and anon a paragraph appears respecting what Mr Robert Thompson Crawshay said he would have done of the workmen had fallen in with his views, perhaps it may be appropriately state what Mr Wm. Crawshay did do in order to meet the varying conditions of demand for produce.

No matter what the marketable produce may have to be – whether bars, rails, sheets or slit rods – all were made from puddled bars rolled to 3 and 3½ inches wide and one-half to five-eighths thick; these were all cut when hot to suit the length of the ‘pile’, as a rule these may be about 18 inches only. After being cut to the length they were taken to an open place – there was one in front of what was afterwards erected and called the Pandy Mill – where they were packed up in the form of a shed, with the roof on, say 16 feet or 18 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 10 feet to the commencement of the slope forming the roof. The weight of one of these ‘houses’ would be about 500 tons. In very bad times, many of these would be built; I think as many as twenty have been seen at one time at the spot indicated, besides others elsewhere, so that there was a stack of 20,000 tons ready for working off when the demand required.

The value of a ton of puddled bars varied from £3 up, so that if 20s were added to the value, there was a virtual profit of about 30 percent on the full amount. Tin-plate manufacturers work for stock occasionally, and the pig-iron manufacturers can deposit their produce and obtain an advance thereon, but rail makers, or bar-iron makers cannot do so to a great extent. In the one case, because of the section, on on the other, the difficulty of avoiding the oxidation. Is it any wonder that the Crawshays are wealthy?

“Cyfarthfa Ironworks at Night” (1825) by Penry Williams. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery

To be continued at a later date.

Merthyr’s Heritage Plaques: Richard Trevithick

by Keith Lewis-Jones

Richard Trevithick

Monument sited at CF47 0LJ
Frieze sited at Tesco car park CF47 0AP

Richard Trevithick from Camborne in Cornwall was carrying out work on the stationary steam engines at the Penydarren Iron Works for Samuel Homfrey. For some time he had been experimenting on self-propelled steam vehicles. Whilst at Penydarren, he had the opportunity to try his railway locomotive on the Penydarren Tramroad.

On 21st February, 1804, Richard Trevithick’s locomotive was used to haul a train of 10 tons of iron and 70 passengers along the Penydarren Tramroad from Merthyr to Abercynon (then known as Navigation), a distance of nearly ten miles. This was the first steam engine to haul a load on rails!

 

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 1

by Barrie Jones

This is a transcript of the serialisation of Henry William’s life of crime and his terms of imprisonment, titled The Dark Side of Convict Life, covering a total of twenty-three chapters in editions of the Merthyr Express from the 29th January 1910 to the 2nd July 1910. Henry’s prison records mark him as one of ‘imperfect’ education and the serialisation’s grammar suggests that the account of his criminal career was in part ‘ghosted,’ probably by a journalist at the Merthyr Express. Further research into Henry’s early life and details of his crimes and court judgements, show that Henry omitted or glossed over some aspects of his life of crime. Also, his life of crime extended well beyond the date his ‘memoir’ was written.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 29th January 1910, page 12.

Introductory

My Dear Readers, – It is my sincere desire and wish that all those who have taken a wrong step in life will check, before it is too late, their evil courses, which is certain in the end to bring them to destruction. I do not for one moment, dear readers, accuse you of wrongdoing. God forbid! But to quote the words of the Bible: “Watch, lest ye also fall into condemnation.” It is a very easy thing to get into trouble. But, oh! how hard it is to wipe off the stains. We not only disgrace ourselves, but also our innocent loved ones. I do not think there is a single soul on God’s earth who has not experienced trouble of some description or other. Some people’s troubles are greater than others; some sins are more serious than others, but they are all considered equal in the sight of God, but, as it says in Holy Scripture, “Though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool.” Therefore, I wish to give you an insight into my own past life, of what nature sin is, and how far it will go to spoil our happiness. In my narrative I will relate the sufferings of poor unfortunate, shall I say pieces of humanity, and the things practised within the walls of our British Convict Prisons, hoping not to weary my readers too much.

Chapter I.

My sole object of choosing the “Dark Side of Convict Life” as the title of my narrative, is simply because I know of no bright side to the life of a poor convict. To begin with, I was once the son of a middle-class boot and shoe manufacturer, and my father was well known within the circle of influential tradesmen as a keen man of business. When I was a little lad rumours had been floating about that he was the heir to an extensive estate, which ultimately fell into the hands of the now Viscount Lord _______. Measures were adopted to restore the estate, but without success, as the will, somehow or other, had been buried or burned. Thus, fate was against father as it has since been against me. When I was not much more than three years of age I was sent to the Cyfarthfa Infants School, and after going through my course there as a child, I was transferred to the Georgetown Board School. I had a very good master, Mr. Jones by name, and a thorough gentleman; a man who knew how to work a school without a great deal of trouble with his pupils. He was also well respected, and well-liked by parents of lads placed under his care. Some of these old schoolboys are now men of position in the world, and some have drifted downwards like myself; but it was not for want of care and attention. Mr. Jones always did his best to bring us up as men, and apart from his teaching he trained us in physical drill. Some people are too apt to believe that the condition of a man is due to his brining up in the past, but nothing of the kind, for no matter how a lad has been brought up it does not follow that he will continue that course all through life.

Some people are born to be unfortunate, and I am one of those unfortunates. Still, it says in the Bible that “The rod and reproof giveth wisdom, but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.” Now, that is quite the opposite in thousands of cases, Still further it says, “Correct thy son, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” That is quite correct, but have I not been corrected? When I was young was I not brought up in the midst of Christianity? Yes, I was but I departed from it. Yes, I am sorry to say I have, but it was not for the want of trying to do better, for I really have tried to live down the past, but I have been overtaken each time by misfortune. As General Booth says in his book on “Darkest England,” “That he believes there is a certain time for the turning point in each man and woman’s life, and I believe that time has come for me.”

I left school at the age of thirteen, and although not very classical, I managed to learn my three “R’s”. My mother then placed me with a well-known Merthyr chemist, but I did not use the pestle and mortar very long before I showed signs of a longing for more active work. In short, I wanted to work in the pits, but my mother had such a dread of the coal mine that she would not think of allowing her pet boy (for such I was considered that time) to go to work underground, for she had seen so many during her life carried home killed. My father said, “Let the lad go to work in the pit, it will make a man of him.” But, in the end, it nearly made a corpse of me. My mother had to give in, and before very long I was equipped ready to start as a collier boy. I was not long working underground before my dear old mother’s fears were realised. I was working with a miner by the name of William Haman in the six feet seam at the Cwm Pit Colliery, and one day I was engaged upon my knees filling the coal box when suddenly without the slightest warning, part of the roof gave way, and a large stone about two tons came crashing down within a foot of me. Fortunately for me it only struck the box, but the box tamped up, and dealt me a violent blow on the head, tearing back with its sharp edge nearly half my scalp. I at once fell unconscious to the ground, and when I awoke I found myself at home and in bed all bandaged up, the doctor having sewn my head right round from ear to ear. It was one of the narrowest escapes known to have occurred in a coal mine, for if I had been one foot further in towards the sea I should have been smashed beyond recognition. This was only the beginning of my troubles.

To be continued…..